The None Affair Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The none affair

The celebration ran into a Dogger bank that had
been trawled of fishy life and turned into windblown sand
of the endlessly repeated.
Take-away food and Portuguese soap triteness was
the name of the monotony.
Red-eyed by watching tediousness in action, time for bed
hoping a dream of glory would restore disappointment.
Eight hours of pre-death, the thought landscape was dark.
The morning had cold sun on the verandah, a day had gone
never to return, swallowed up by the monolithic time
The celebratory bottle of wine collects dust on a shelf.