I don't know how my house ended up like this. I woke up this morning
only to have my eyes assaulted by countless beer
bottles and dirty footprints
. The backyard was even worse. Oh Lord. It's all coming back to me now. Too many people, too many voices
in my yard, in my head, too many drinks in my hand, too many tokes of something not quite weed-ish
. It all seemed so much happier last night as I fell asleep, lulled by the drunken illusion of perfection
She calls and wants to help clean up. She, who drowned her sorrows and wants to forget them again by cleaning them. I would rather she didn't. This is a solitary effort.
I walk downstairs. This is funny...this is funny. The deer head passed down through my family is now sporting an elaborate headdress of beer cans on its antlers. A bottle of Moosehead is taped to its mouth. I giggle despite my anger. Maybe I will leave it there. Modern art at its best.