waking up after a night of drinking

 waking up after a night of drinking
by Emma Blowgun
if i wake up and see sunlight,
i know i’ve slept in too late.
“fuck.”
i scramble to get ready. my boss is
going to piss himself. i was late yesterday.
i see my wallet on the floor.
i open it.
receipts.
lots of fucking receipts.
no money.
“jesus fucking christ.”
i wash my hair in the kitchen sink. my cats
observe me. my cats think i’m a psycho.
they would get along well with my mother.
i brush my teeth and piss at the same time.
i spit pink backwash into the toilet and zip up.
flush. my gums are bleeding.
there’s a lipstick kiss on my cheek and neck.
i debate washing it off. maybe my boss will
forgive my lateness… nah, better wash it off.
i walk to work and up the stairs to my desk.
i turn the lights off.
my officemate tells me i smell like booze.
“not now,
man.”
he’s working in the dark and i have my head down on my
desk and i’m scribbing this poem on a yellow notebook.
if i get fired today, i’m going to sell poetry in the streets.
this will be the first poem i sell. $5.
rent is due on the 1st and i’m fucking broke.
i need a
drink.

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