Remorse
Those dry martinis were too much for me.
Last night at twelve I felt immense,
Today, I feel like thirty cents.
But it is a poor time for mirth and laughter,
The cold, gray dawn of the morning after.
* * *
I went to a dance with a girl named Nora,
We danced and we danced on the floor-a,
I heard a rip, and I knew by chance