Why Dogs Have Hair

Now matter how bad the morning after
that follows the night before,
when we laughed and drank and kicked up our heels,
and thought those who didn’t were bores;

despite the painful headaches
and the tongues that taste of mud,
the eyelids that won’t open
and the alcohol in the blood;

the grim visage that stares back from the mirror,
the rustling leaves screeching down the block,
I find all’s forgot and forgiven
the next day when it’s five o’clock.