Shaved the whiskers of the past month's mouth.
Wiped the arse of a good meal.
Warshed the pits of a drippy work day.
Trimmed the nails of neglected feet.
Put on a hat.
Put on some socks.
Put on an undershirt and some boxers
Found some pants at the bottom of the pile.
Found a "just about dirty" shirt.
Went to a party at a place that smelled better than most salons.
Ordered a drink and melted on a stool.
Watched everything around me blend into a small, relevant situation.
Kissed my hand and told the bartender I was going for a smoke.
Lit one up outside and found myself alone again.
In dreams like this I rarely get some selfish time to call my own.
I don't really smoke that much.
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