Nothing makes me happier than a clean bed,
with clean sheets like an Egyptian cotton hug, always available.
I don't have to press or wait for my cotton hug.

What happens when your life becomes a bed frame leaning on the wall?
When it is live Green Day on repeat?
(play that Brain song again, Billie Joe)
It takes on the sterility of a 70% ethanol-caricature of a past dream.

The keg needs picking up; I suppose I'll go attend to that.

Love in This Club plays and I kindly sway my hips.
He's butchering the lyrics and riffs, but everyone smiles and sips
Smiles and sips.

College days are still upon me, I'm reminded; not all is lost.
There are still these swarms of bodies, pressing upon me from either side: man, woman, beverage.
Face after face, urging me to remember them, to make them something important to me.
"Oh sorry!" "Oh no, really I'm the sorry one..."
Cute smile on that one as he walks away, looking over his shoulder to throw me another coy glance.

Alice, where have you led me now?

Dunkin' Donuts coffee is the finest
when my head should be pounding and
I feel a sense of loss for the person I was last night.

Cleaning up beer bottles, the new calisthenics.
I do my sun asanas to you, Samuel, Corona, and Dos Equis.

What we lose in a morning, we never had to begin with.