Pleasent Hangover (a poem)

In an abalone shell ashtray,

Butts and rainwater

Steep a nicotine tea.

-

Morning’s drizzle has rinsed

The ubiquitous bits of bliss

From last nights mingling air.

-

A bottle in greyed morning light.

Droplets race the glass

As we both suffer it’s emptiness.

-

Runny eggs and black coffee

Have me stimulated and listless,

Tangled in a pristine melancholy.

-

Rain drifts to floating mist

Shaping motioned holograms

Of the night before, replaying.

-

It’s a rare, perfect little calm.

The kind we only find

Falling from simple pleasures.