Slow Learner

 

Slow Learner

I hate mornings after!
My mouth tastes
like a Manhattan
sidewalk
and my head
throbs with
every beat of my heart.

Mornings after
are a time
for inventory,
counting and recounting
the drunkenness, debauchery,
and stupidity
that define
my social life.

Mornings after
smell of spilled booze,
stale cigarettes,
and the perfume
of cheap bar girls
passed out in the bedroom.

Mornings after
sting like a ruler
across the knuckles,
wielded by
Sister Barely Tolerant,
correcting me in ethics class.

Mornings after
serve as a harsh reminder
of what excess can lead to.
Somehow those lessons
never come to mind
on nights before.

SMG

Glisten

Glisten

There

is no beauty
in a sunset
or a birdsong
sung in the dim
mist of morning.
The only true beauty
I know is in the glisten
of a woman’s skin
in the moonlight
and silence
that follows
the fire.

SMG