Post-Cup Fatigue

This morning you looked nice, I understand,
Just like a groom on his proud way to church,
But now your tie's undone and you can't stand
Unless the lamp-post guides you as you as you lurch.
Your partner calls and indicates the way,
But legs - unsteady things at best - have schemes
That thwart the rules of sense or gravity.
I start and stumble like this in my dreams,
And on this day dreams meet reality -
Or so they tell me in the glossy mags.
I placed no bets and won no sort of race;
Perhaps you're better off, disheveled rags
The signs that you dreamt once. I play it safe
And keep my clothes in tact. You walk on air
And yet you cannot walk now as I stare.