By Irene Mason

You drop me off
And go to a bar.
Dinner is cold
When you come stumbling in.
You turn on lights
And have the nerve to start
Strumming and singing.

You want to sing me a song?
I was asleep before you arrived.
You sure speak loudly
And ramble about nonsense.
No consideration for those
Of us whose dreams are interrupted
By your spit-ridden words.

I try to ignore you and sleep,
But it is impossible to mute you.
Banging into walls,
Stubbing your toe,
Drowning our ears with your curses.
Finally, you pass out.
The next day, you say, “Good morning.”

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