Staggering Home

I’m deaf

I can’t hear a thing

It’s silent

And then it’s quiet

Yet I hear it blare

My nerves are alert

My eyes are red

My hair wrecks

The stench of cigar and alcohol

I stink

My clothes are sweaty

The night was hectic

I can’t feel my legs

I’m still a bit shaky

I’m staggering home

I can see my gate

I know it is a gate

It looks so familiar

I can smell my flowers

The refreshing smell of the freshly grown grass

My face is so flushed

I just need the soft comfort of my bed

My tongue feels dry

I crave water

I stare at the gutter

I laugh and shake my swollen head

I stagger on

Ignoring the horns and lights

I turn the door knob

The smell of the ever familiar furniture

The enchanting environment of bliss

My home

My place of rest

I slam the door

Turn the lock

And slump on the soft rug

By Sylvia Chika

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