A Hang Over Poem

Drinking at a friends house
(Ari’s is like a haven)
(For stupid drunk nights.)
Girls will arrive soon
(I said girls not women purposefully)
But I am drunk
Too drunk to understand
The possibilities
(I’m always too drunk)
(Or too sober)
(And alone.)
I hear sex
From a bedroom
(Very loud moaning sex)
Down to two girls now
One for Ari. One for me?
(They are not pretty.)
Dark blurry vision
My car driver’s seat.
Sunlight.
I sit up slowly:
No shoes, no keys
(Vomit here and there.)
Ari appears in the driveway
Cautiously looking at me
(We stare at each other for a moment)
(Like strangers thrust together)
(Isn’t that what all friends are at first?)

“Let me get your things
Don’t come inside
My parents are freakin out.”
He says almost whispering.
“You were so fucked up dude,
O my god. You were stumbling
And puking out here.”

“I don’t remember.”
I say somberly.

He goes inside
Comes back with my shoes
My phone, my keys
Were in my car door.
As I take my things
I think: how does he do this
So god damned well?
(And leave.)

Honestly, all this
Is quite simply because
I’ve been searching
For someone to help me
Rewrite my life’s story
But I only find bottles
And lonely mornings
Hung over days
Where I sleep in baths
And after that
Vomit repeatedly
Only to go out
And do it all again
(Until there is nothing)
(Left.)
© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.