The Ghost Of Hangovers Past
Your cell phone rings
but you’re not listening
because you left it
in The Fox and Vixen
behind the cistern
in the last stall on the left
next to the condom machine
and now it’s 4 am
your wife sleeps soundly beside you,
in the corner of the room
your hangover squats
sorting a tray of instruments.
It all began with a few beers,
some Christmas Cheer
so how did it get
from there to here?
Slowly you remember or think you remember….
Did you really poke your boss in the chest
and tell him that you know better
that you know best?
Did you really down three shots of scotch
grab Mark from marketing by the shoulders
and proclaim “I love you bro”
over and over ‘till he begged you to stop
to let go?
And why, why, why
did you call that shy Dutch girl from accounting
“sad-eyed lady of the lowlands”
again, over and over?
You groan inwardly
you groan outwardly
and just when you think
it could not get worse
your hangover stands up
and crosses the room
carrying what appears to be
a small mallet
Zooooosh,
he enters your head
and proceeds to knock on the inside of your skull
with that same mallet
all the time chanting this manic mantra
“deck the halls with human folly
Fa la la la la, la la la la”.
Four hours later your wife is shaking you
Up you get, she chimes
It’s time to do some Christmas shopping!
Joe Fresh opens at 9!
Taking part in Open Link over at dverse.
This poem first appeared in Sarah Connors advent calendar 2020. Check out Sarah’s 2021 calendar here,
Stopdraggingthepanda 
Great poem… sounds like a real nightmare!
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Thanks Dwight!
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Great imagery working here — you took me to the bar, you took me to your hangover.
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Thanks Ron!
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I still love this poem!
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Thanks Kim, and thanks for the reblog!
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😊
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Reblogged this on The Cheesesellers Wife and commented:
Another fine (and funny) poem from Jim:
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When you’re old, you may not have the same kind of hangover, because we do learn, but I often wake up having forgotten just as vividly that I’m not young until that lurking hammer descends…this brings back a rueful nightmare where “what’s done is done” in all its painful detail is a mantra of disaster. The humor is an enhancer of the truth in every word. I especially like the lost cell phone by the condoms, and the regaling of the Dutch girl with old Dylan. Great fun to read, because written with great skill.
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Thanks Joy! Glad you enjoyed it!
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Haha! Really superb, really well-scribed, and so real!
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Thank you , Ain!
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Been there done that with variations. Except for that little effer with the mallet. He got me too.
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This sends me back in time a long time… I do not remember making myself a fool in such a way, but the hangover part I do remember well… (and then there are those things I don’t remember too)
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we all get wiser! Bjorn!
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