UNHUNGOVER

wake to banging church bells without irritation.

brown moth shaped like a crucifix sitting still on my ugly lamp.

8.33am Sunday.

i

am

unhungover

trying to work out what to do next.

put radio on techno comes out without irritation.

BURN HOLLYWOOD BURN

says

the

radio.

i struggle coming up with a plan.

coffee on i reheat last nights pizza slices

and

sit

on

the

back

step

looking at autumn.  struggling for a plan.

what do the unhungover do on a sunday morning?

i eye an unopened bottle of wine.

the day is stretching in front of me a useless yawn

empty

as

the

hallway

full with flat bland daylight and dry old dust.