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Narrative Poem: Morning After by Patrick Valdez

My head is aching and I know that its from too much cheap bourbon from the night before. 
I'm sprawled out on an old leather club chair.
Wearing nothing but my boxer shorts and a tank top and both are filthy with dried liquor and my own piss. 
Think about that for a moment. 
I stink of alcohol and stale cigar smoke and I am not at home.  As I glance around I find myself in a small office. 
The windows are floor to ceiling and covered with old newspaper.  The light coming through the tears is cold and grey. 
It is still early morning and I am think I am someplace downtown because that is where I was the night before.

by Patrick Valdez


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