Thirteen Ways Of Looking At A Hangover
I
Among four ruffled pillows
The only moving thing
Was the pounding of the hangover
II
I was of three drinks
Like a flyte
In which a hangover waits
III
The hangover stumbled in the city
streets.
It was a painful part of the walk.
IV
A headache and a man
Are one
A headache and a man and a hangover
Are one
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The feeling of exhaust
Or the release of the night,
The hangover resting
Or just after.
VI
Women filled the exit
With smiles, curves.
The shadow of the hangover
Paced behind, back and forth.
The future
Traced in its palm
An unsettling force.
VII
O round men of Lynchburg,
Why do you imagine larger cows?
Do you not see how the hangover
Lays around the feet
Of the children about you?
VIII
I know methods to ease
And simple, full proof preventions;
But I know, too,
That the hangover is involved
In what I do.
IX
When the hangover eventually left,
It marked the beginning
Of one of many ends.
X
At the arrival of a hangover
Appearing in a stark light,
Even the champions of consumption
Would cry out sharply.
XI
He drove through Tennessee
In a dark old sedan.
Instantly, sweat pushed out,
In that he remembered
The nights of his rascality
And hangover.
XII
The sun is rising.
The hangover must be coming.
XIII
It was evening all morning.
It was balmy
And it was going to rain.
The hangover stayed
On the shelf with books.