Futility³

I watch them departing the corner store
exuding the weakness I so abhor,
their sovereign spirit that blearily tore
apart the hearth impatient to pour;

what proof exists that will appease
these catastrophic tendencies
to disregard corporeal pleas
for jaundiced, gaunt indignities?

Distracted by the gentle clink
of rocks that help define the brink,
a ruddy face and carefree wink
is all you see before they sink.