Morning in wonderland

I sat on the steps in the yard drinking a morning beer
the dog was dead at my feet as I
reflected on the ruin that was my life.
A single raindrop fell on my lips it tasted salty,
perhaps a message from the sea.
High above among clouds a plane carrying 210 tourists
winged it's way home.
The dog stirred and yawned I wondered if the salt drop
was from someone peeing up there.