The Aftermath Of A Wedding
By Adam Irving

The car was cold,
but the three other people in it
were warm from the fuel
of alcohol, weed and the coke they had taken

I sat, clear headed in reality
behind the passenger seat,
my girlfriend next to me
slumped into sleep,
drying splashes of vomit
on her new boots and pants

We had stopped outside a club
in the middle of nowhere
and the driver began
a light hearted enquiry
as to why I didn’t
and wouldn’t
do cocaine

We bounced arguments between us,
like talking with a child,
missed analogies through the translation of language
and misunderstood concepts and intentions
The atmosphere was unpleasant .
Me, being the minority in every way
and then being made to explain myself,
but I held it together without getting nasty
which was what the situation needed.

I couldn’t leave,
what with it being 4am
and the fact we were sat
in the middle of the Italian countryside
The other passenger was asleep now,
leaving just us two to battle it out,
we continued to argue/debate

"I’ve never had sex with a corpse,
but I know I don’t want to"
I said, trying to simplify my ideas,
but she continued her half-assed lame causes.
I choose reality, she chose fake reality,
I don’t care what other people do
as long as they don’t hassle me about it

Weeks later, back in the UK,
she Emailed my girlfriend,
and it transpired,
she didn’t recall that particular night,
but apologized anyway.

That surely is the most hilariously sad
tweak to her decaying nose.

To have a good time and not remember it
To remember not having a good time
Surely Plato would have

Mulled that one over for decades.
If both of us didn’t remember having a good time,
Then what was the point exactly?



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