Waking up
With a half swollen face
Last nights beers rattle
Across the tile
One is opened and full
.Who knows.
The only thing in the freezer
Is a bottle of southern comfort
I lay back down and press it
Against my face
Read some poems i wrote last night
For the first time
The sun peeks through
Black curtains
And I know
That sun is not mine
The day is not mine
But I am not bitter
You can have it.
Besides
There is still a few beers in the fridge
A box of cereal and a pill for sleep
The radio still works
And I am in the middle of
Lorca
Hamsun
McCullers
Anderson
I always start too many at one time.
I shower and look at the hall
Across the street
There are happy Mexicans dancing
They are dressed in nice
church clothes
They can have it.
I hear the Sunday crowd in the
Bar downstairs
They are always cleaner and fancier
Than the normal crowd
There is a live band there today
They can have it.
I walk out to the car to grab a book
And remember it's breaking down
And there are overdue bills to pay
That was the plan for today
No.Tomorrow.
I walk back up the stairs
Make my bed
Shut the curtains all the way
I am not bitter
You should take it
And I hope you do
something
Worthwhile