you went away some time ago
don’t call or write no more
but I recall your need to score with the
25-year-old singer/actress/waitress
in love, you said.

I awaken in the morning
eat, think of you
and it sets in

at first I thought it was
the food
but realize, rather
it’s the lingering effects
of your persona

I never vomit
(at least not as of this writing)
but come close
as I ruminate
on your foolish face and fastidious
dependence on booze and cigarettes

the simplest treatment would be
to down a few pills—those anti-emetics
(and I’ll consider that)
but, truthfully, I do not believe
that is the answer

rather…

erase and replace all memories
of the rude awakenings
at 3 a.m.
with bilious smoke circulating
around my front door
when you and your drunk nicotine self
needed to talk
about insecurity post-divorce

nausea personified
may have a happy ending
once you are a complete eclipse