New Year’s Day

Thomas Hally

On New Year’s Day I went to a local restaurant with my beautiful bride.

My pretty sister-in-law tagged along for the dinner and to be at our side.

Our attractive niece followed with her boyfriend, coming along for the ride.

All were famished, so we sat down at an ornate table abandoned since Yuletide.

Our little family quickly devoured a big, fat, cooked ham in a tour de force.

I stuffed myself with codfish and rosemary bathed in chocolate-chili sauce.

We continued the feast and ordered a platter of succulent duck: our second course.

A turkey browning in the oven awoke, and galloped swiftly away with a charley horse.

A confused waiter brought us a large chocolate cake that I quickly apportioned.

I happily ate four of the six portions that I had not evenly proportioned.

At the end of the banquet my waistline was quite disproportioned.

  At home, in the early morn, I played with an idea, but it was somewhat distortioned.

I turned on the light bulb above my computer—surprised by divine inspiration!

I decided to write a love poem, but instead envisioned the devil’s personification.

Tired and typing quickly, I fell into a deep cauldron of micturition.

A lost soul said Lucifer had grabbed me; I must suffer the pains of eternal damnation.

Bending the rules, I prayed I could be with my wife through divine intervention.

While I was praying a beautiful young lady in a transparent veil caught my attention.

Who was behind that pretty face and behind behind that diaphanous protection?

We loved like adolescents, but at the crack of dawn I sensed her rejection.

Finally I awoke, recognizing the charming face of my lovely lady.

 She told me I was still a mere mortal man: flesh, blood, and bone in a body.

Thirsty as hell, I asked if my pineapple and booze would soon be ready.

I proposed a toast, deciding to start this New Year feeling happy and heady.