the impatience of a vessel

in cigarettes,
enough smoke has been inhaled
to calm the nerves
of a small army.

there have been
enough drugs gathered
and heaped
into the size of a mountain,
that even a circle of recovering addicts
could never resist.

there has been enough booze
to make a lake
and float a boat.

i've wrapped the clothe
around the stick,
and dunked it
in a vat of gasoline,
handing each one of them
the matches,
while wearing nothing
but a blindfold.

and still,
through these prayers,
it's never enough
to even make
the outlines
of a face.