There are worse things than having behaved foolishly in public.
There are worse things than these miniature betrayals,
committed or endured or suspected; there are worse things
than not being able to sleep for thinking about them.
It is 5 a.m. All the worse things come stalking in
and stand icily about the bed looking worse and worse
Zach Houston used to be a Mission regular, peddling his poetry from a poem store made up of an old mechanical typewriter and carefully selected scrap papers.