As I Lay Dying
I awaken on a Sunday morning,
head pounding from the 12-hour
drinking binge with a lost friend
I hadn’t seen since college.
Sitting on the end of the bed
I try to remember what I ate for supper,
shake my head when unable to recall.
From where I sit I feel angel eyes
staring at me from around the bathroom door.
Go away! I yell, please go away!
As I lay dying I admit to myself
I won’t be attending Mass today.
april, two thousand twelve
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