hangover sunrise
you lay there in bed
you’re killing some of sunday
it’s your only day off this week
but you can’t help it
the pain in the head is too much
the stomach is doing cartwheels
you’re almost forty, you think
and you’re still pulling this shit
like you’re twenty-two years old
you wonder about your health
feel the heart and check the pulse
fast but that might be because of the stomach
you hope you don’t have to pray
to the porcelain gods this morning
because you have a streak without vomiting
three years
not since madrid and the urinal at the reina sofia museum
after ten straight hours of beer
with ally and oscar and aida and gemma
this is a streak you’d like to keep
but the stomach is churning away
and the head is hurting no matter how you move it
the sun is coming through the window
it hurts your eyes and looks like a hangover too
you think it’s only a matter of time now
and to all of the lost sundays
that you’ve spent this way
you apologize
and wait for your time to shine.
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