the sun shoots up <br />and explodes like a rocket <br />last night's tears <br />still damp in his pocket <br />hair looks like he <br />stuck his finger in a socket <br /> <br />but he don't bother to look for a comb <br /> <br />he kisses her <br />forehead but forgets her name <br />he can't remember <br />what he called out when he came <br />it wasn't 'i love you' <br />but sounded just the same <br /> <br />men say the dumbest shit when they're hip-deep in strange <br /> <br />he swallows like <br />a man who has no throat <br />and recalls a lousy <br />little poem he wrote <br />and scribbles it <br />down to her in a short note <br /> <br />before he scrapes together some change <br /> <br />he almost told <br />her he'd see her later <br />but didn't want <br />to sound like a traitor <br />his favourite beer <br />is in the refrigerator <br /> <br />and he needs a place he can call home<br /><br />Rev. Dr. A. Jacob Hassler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/morning-after/
