Touring in drinks.
Last night I conducted
A diplomatic summit of spirits.
Kingfisher opened proceedings.
Tequila chaired the session.
Rum brought a coconut.
Moonshine arrived uninvited
And set fire to the minutes.
At 1:31
My watch shrieked like a startled gull.
“Abnormal,” it declared,
As if I were a faulty kettle.
I rose, queen of poor decisions,
Staggered to the toilet
In ceremonial dignity,
For a bleak and necessary pee,
While my heart thudded in my ribs
Like a fox caught in a dustbin.
The mirror offered no counsel.
Only mascara ghosts
And the faint pink bloom
Of a woman who has challenged her liver
And lost on points.
Morning now.
Coffee. Milk. No sugar.
The house quiet as a field after rain.
My heart, entirely reasonable,
Has returned to its post
And files the incident under:
Metabolised Tequila.
So glad this rare occasion is rare
Too old for this.


ha. well done