in the morning I was told

I was drunk last night

that I fell from the car’s

open door into the gutter

in front of my house

that I cursed my station in life

that my friends laughed

rather to lend a hand and

it rained an hour before the fall

and I was drenched with rainwater

and whatever the gutter surrendered

to my pants, which stuck there

as the flow down the artery looked like

a vein filled with puss and other yucky shit.

I threw-up making more of a mess

struggled to gain my balance, tripped

over the curbstone and landed

on the little grassy strip

in front of the mailbox.

that’s where I woke up.

that’s when I was told that

I was drunk last night

by someone I don’t know or

at least don’t remember, just happy

to be among the living.

examining the mail from the mailbox

I questioned my desire to keep living.