Mike Stone's poem is about a sadness the speaker can't name or release. It opens with "thousands of sadnesses" that "want to come out" but won't, and the speaker admits, "Can't put my finger on it." The broken word "Fall / ing" makes the line itself seem to drop, like sand slipping through fingers.
The middle turns stranger and darker. Blonde Belinda Tulips knocks at the door, and someone is offered a "poison Apollo" that tastes "infinite." The jump from "die it" to "like it" suggests a dangerous temptation, though the poem never explains who she is. Then comes the wish to return to how things "were before," ending in the lonely "Wish you were."
The raindrop that "springs from the puddle / As though rejected" is a small image of feeling pushed away. In the last lines, the speaker's consciousness drags its body "from party to parting" until it can drown in vodka. The mood is weary, numb and quietly desperate, with flashes of dark humor.