A poem inspired by Beer N. Hockey:
Last night must have been an evening for falling asleep on the couch. I do this habitually – when Rosa is not around to bark at me or wheedle and cajole – and my back is no longer supple enough to withstand this ritual punishment.
At least you came to with beer on the table – if warm and flat.
I was roused this morning by a movie channel preview running endlessly on a loop. Mel Gibson with a saltire painted on his face, shrieking on about freedom.
Braveheart, be damned.
What\’s the pain of ceremonial disembowelment compared with waking up on the couch at 7:00 AM and staggering into the kitchen doubled over in agony to make a nine-year-old his breakfast ?