Gin Alley

His sides throbbed and ached.
The evening's festivities resonated in his head.
A yellow taxi ride forsaked
in favor of walking, though like the dead.
He lit up a smoke,
then took a toke
and felt the world slip further by
as he let out a pleasured sigh
and stumbled on down nightime's lane.

Later he woke up in a drain
the cool water laughing at his face.
He seemed almost concious now, in any case
the world was not spinning so lopsidedly.

In fact, the place he saw was decidedly
different than what he remembered.
His smokes were wet and dismembered.
So, he rolled over and sat up.

Then promptly he threw up.
And up and up.
At last he stood
and reached behind him.
Reached for the bottle in his pocket,
his eye pounding in reddened deep socket.
Though he was not sure he should
he went out on a limb
and drank a swig of rotgut gin.

The sun came up and found him there,
the puke and water all in his hair.
Broken bottle and broken smokes,
he could take no deep drawn tokes.
Now the subject of oft told jokes,
his memory gone in mindless stare
as lifeblood flowed down a back alley stair.

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mindbringer, 6 September 2012