Sunday 4 September 2011

UNHUNGOVER

wake to banging church bells without irritation.
brown moth shaped like a crucifix sitting still on my ugly lamp.

8.33am Sunday.

i
am
unhungover
trying to work out what to do next.

put radio on techno comes out without irritation.
BURN HOLLYWOOD BURN
says
the
radio.

i struggle coming up with a plan.
coffee on i reheat last nights pizza slices
and
sit
on
the
back
step
looking at autumn.  struggling for a plan.
what do the unhungover do on a sunday morning?

i eye an unopened bottle of wine.

the day is stretching in front of me a useless yawn
empty
as
the
hallway
full with flat bland daylight and dry old dust.

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