Hangover

The gray walls around me now,
crumbling away like a sandbar,
against the ocean tides,
in the shadows,
gathering against the window
pane, last night's revelry
upon a bar stool, staring fixedly
into the golden draught, trapped
in the cracked glass, contemplating cold
comfort through a pinhole in the
mind, as the afterglow buzzes along
like a hot, hazy summer day,
the slippery smiles of the
nameless wonders around me
evaporate, escaping into the
stratosphere, turning away to
far-flung desires, unfulfilled
like a hangover in the morning
sun.