Saturday, December 18, 2010

The Dregs of Lethargy

Last night I sipped
The waters of Lethe
In a bar dark as the underworld
Lit with ghastly Carnaval fires
Took a ride with my fellows
In Charon’s gondola
Dipped my fingers
In cold waters of forgetfulness

Sunday morning I sit
Hot tea warming my hands
In bed doing nothing
Bathed in the noonday sun
Wanting to do nothing
Enjoying Baudelaire’s victory
Thinking of the past and smiling
Trying not to think of tomorrow

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