Here’s to you,
wake and bakers,
joint over coffee suckers,
hiders of whiskey
in “World’s Greatest Dad” mugs;

hail, hail,
pills at daybreak takers,
Marley rocking pajama stoners;

here’s a toast to you carpool dodgers
passing the buck in favor of lifting
the mood, here’s to your health
and the health of the children
you didn’t drive to soccer practice
on a Saturday morning
because the clouds were so…
cloudy;

raise a glass to you, 
shower tomorrow people,
maybe tomorrow people,
call it a day before 9:00 AM people;

here’s to you.

May you live long,
the liquor firing a thunderstorm
in your gullets, your eyes
red as sunrise flashing back into the dawn;

may you dance clumsily behind the blinds
and tell yourself, again and again,
it’s just this one time
as you slip into the folds of the comforter
and fall into a stupor.  

Once you’re past the morning
the day has always tended to crumble;
may you instead open the party and close the bar
before the rest of us even know you’re wrecked,
and may the sleep you enter
be dead, and may the death
be temporary.  

May you open your eyes
upon a new life
where you can swallow the morning straight
and never have to answer for these lost days.

May you find yourself drunk at last
on nothing but the good light
of the good day you believed, always,
would someday come
without having to coax it into being.