Drank too much at Sunday lunch
had a nap and woke at five,
thought it was morning and felt
like hell. Slumped in front
of my computer —
no messages
on Poem Hunter.
Who’s on line? No-one I know,
God I’m feelin’ well below
par, yes very far,
even my head
is hanging low,
think about what
a friend told me today,
how his mate last week
had an awful pain
in his left shoulder,
it got worse and worse,
so he took him to the hospital
and in the car he began to sink
into a really parlous state
yelping with
the awful pain.
Heart attack, it
turned out to be and he was only
forty-three. The evening stretches into
infinity, and as for me
I'd like to be some place else,
in another me,
in a different time and place
marvelously clever and charming, with the perfect subject switch to realization of one's own mortality, I think that's what happens everytime I'm hung over, maybe even that's why I like to drink. thank you for the poem. Jon
it's time for lunch here in america's heartland....Alkaseltzer Plus Cold Medicine...and a woman tells me that they have a pill you take before you drink....hmmmmmmmmmmm...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I got drunk for the first time two weeks ago and it was most disappointing.Apparently I kept screaming that I had no control, staggering and falling.Cant say I see why I'd do it again :)