A silver of sunlight dances across the bed
as I stiffly turn to face the morning.
Fragments of last night linger on my mind:
cheap champagne and stiff Irish Whisky
floated us into this unmade bed
and we fell atop the crisp green spread
enveloped in our drunkenness;
both set in our intentions,
but awkward in our actions
like two children with a new game
but no directions how to play.