Early Morning Beer And Not Much Else

pumping out the snore like
vanilla visions, my darling–
the blue pillow blue
and midnight is 2 a.m.
and all the cows
like death in the fields
surrounded by a fence
are down on their
sides,
and through the curtain some
light:   plastic sick roses
holding me, I hear
the lightbulb denture dripping of
moss, why in the hell do I
pay rent
to a time and fix
like this?