Samuel Wagan Watson

1972 / Brisbane

3 a.m. escape

got up off the couch
and immediately the room cleared of its winged creatures
flapping in-time
to an abdominal exercise machine on the glowing box,

ahhh!
falling asleep again without turning off the television

the evangelists would be up soon
with their healing tentacles
of credit card lust
my mind cleansed by amber spirits,
leaving a pallet as rough as cindery thongs
the last remnants of yesterday
hanging off my crumpled clothing

flashbacks of a late-night telephone call to the ex-wife
like a scientist hell-bent on an answer for cancer

the sun was on the way up
over a cloud spangled banner
as the jury slept

time to get on the road again
and grab a radar-gun breakfast
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