It was early Christmas morn, and again all alone.

I drowned my pain,

In some Oxycodone.

My brow met stone with no memory trace.

I still feel you, 2020,

Blunt Trauma to the Face.

It was late New Year’s eve, we had chemicals on board.

Our motorcycle went down,

Bruised ribs the reward.

But the clock must’ve struck,

Because my face was untouched.

Our clothes came off, and into the river we plunged.

We wrestled in the rain,

And meditated in place.

It’s no longer 2020,