intoxication of the previous <br />evening plays callous games <br />not so much a classic hangover <br />as a sense of disappointment <br />that evades capture and <br />categorization <br /> <br />what on earth were you thinking <br />sounds more like Mother talking <br />than a rational grip on morning’s <br />reality yet you tidied up and put <br />the empties away before <br />you went to bed <br /> <br />waking to last night’s dishes <br />usually says things are much <br />the same but today’s greeting <br />frankly puzzles – you can’t <br />explain the sense of order <br />decide what must have changed <br />© 9 October 2009, I. D. Carswell<br /><br />Ivan Donn Carswell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/order-6/
