Saturday, July 18, 2009

The Hangover Cure



I awoke this morning with my headache lodged
beneath the lid of an antique player piano.

Admittedly, I do not recall much about last night,
except that a half-drunk Manhattan on ice

was needlessly heaved at a short-fused bluesman.
After numerous attempts to liberate my head

with brute force and tougher talk, I gave up.
Instead, I belted out a song of automated apology

into the tuneless dawn, as if this change
in key might somehow let me out.

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