Preparing for Hangover
by Nick Plunkey

I poured pills on the countertop
Beside a glass of water.
A wash cloth soaked.

I heard somebody coming everybody
Who had known my name.
They carried hammers and chisels,

Limbo sticks and matches.
One —an old friend— heaved
A guillotine into the room.

It's awesome how little we remember.
The sun laid down under blankets
of rain. Then subtle shakes came—

The kind of shaking starlings take
From wind and feel of feathers.
Leaves began to break.

Clouds churned and starlight hovered up.
All the fortune-tellers felt confident
In their sleep. Police sirens turned.

It's not worth mentioning
That a fire truck busted a flat. I can't tell you
What they missed.

A Laundromat fumbled.
An unknown animal beckoned woods.
All these tools laid about my bed

When I awoke. Dazed, lazy, I stepped
For the sink and toilet. I stepped
Over the guillotine, leaning, in the shower.

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