The Morning After

Joe woke up the morning after
In just galoshes and a bow tie

His wife awoke, next to him, similarly
In silk scarf, and boots to her thigh

Their cat sat preening, maniacally
Upon their tattered bed

If only it could have uttered a word
This is possibly what it would have said

‘What the F*ck were you two doing?
Just, what happened here, last night?’

‘And, what’s all this stuff I’m covered in?
Why am I privy to this sight?’

But, neither was aware of the dilemma of the cat
Nor, to what it cleaned from its coat

They just lay on the floor, massaging their heads
As his wife stood, out popped the remote

The TV turned itself on, and there on the screen
Was the paused image of what they had done

It was hard to distinguish, who, what and where
And, would have coaxed a blush, from the hardiest nun

So! People, please think, before you pick up your glass
Only, to pour out a world of regrets

And, spare a thought for your pet, as it witnesses it all
Through a screen of discarded, crotchless fishnets.