After you remember the
missing pieces of a 2001
alcohol blackout, and
ring your friends to
apologise, know this –
there are other bits
missing up the hoover too,
bagpiping a dischordant dirge of
protest at every attempt to
spring clean your life.
So write “sorry” on the banners
in bold, definite letters,
cover every window in
explanations, and replace the
feathers in your pillows
with chicken necks.
Hang on, let no light in,
and sleep little –
get practice in for
whatever else will
inevitably transpire
when you’ve decided
you can live with yourself.
