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Rounds

by Amanda Conlogue

If I drink another beer
I won’t be able to stand
My eyes are heavy-lidded
As it is, wanting to close
I order another round
A warm, yeasty haze fills me
I finish my glass with unsteady hand
Push back from the bar to stand
Only to sit down again

What would you say
If you saw me like this
Would you cluck your tongue
Disapprovingly
Yet help me to stand
A sailor’s watery legs
Walking onto shore then tuck
Me into bed with aspirin
Would you laugh tomorrow
Tease as you make me dry
Wheat toast for my seasick stomach

My fingers will fumble on buttons
Zippers and flys, I don’t know
How I’ll make it into bed
I’m sure I'll sleep
Through the alarm, when I wake
There’ll be no time to make
Myself toast, no kiss good morning
I’ll have to make it through
With a hung-over hammer
Nailing into my head

All these things occur
As I stare into the bottom
Of the empty glass, where
Amber residue, foam congeal

01/25/2001

Posted on 01/28/2003
Copyright © 2024 Amanda Conlogue

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Roger J Kenyon on 09/22/04 at 10:47 PM

I've been there and done that Amanda. I'm getting a headache from the memories. One fine evocative peom. Where is my aspirin?

Posted by Soulo Jacob Bourgeau on 01/02/06 at 02:59 AM

...an unauthorized biography of my twenties? I always found it odd, that cute girl following me w/ pad and plume....

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