We shall wait until the boat rows in and celebrate with two glasses, one of gin and one of rum and watch as the night passes over our eyes and makes fun of our faces.

Hangovers are the hangover from some time before, some
door that was shut, some other places but I can’t remember now
and how my head aches, makes me want that death when sleeping.

We’ll wait
that’s what
we do and
you’ll be keeping a
watchful eye
I’ll be getting the next round in,
one glass of rum and
another of gin.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.