Sleep

All the pains of summer insomnia drive a confused dreamer to distraction.

Sleep

Do not be elusive, dark friend.
You are the liquid of the night and I thirst for you.
A hot leg, a wet back, I cry out!
Is it an ambulance, on the street that breaks you?
The Doink! Doink! Doink! as tiny drops fall on high, into the unwashed bowl?
The racket clang of the old mechanical time keeper of mother gone?
Perhaps the chirp and yerdle of the blasted pocket thing, illuminating the dark, casting it's sharp blue shadows.
I should have lain it on its face.
But, No.
The embarrassment of a faux pas, long forgotten.
A nameless girl, insulted by a foolish word, the laughter of a sibling, the smothering muckard, at a guffaw two score years gone.
Red is my face against the darkness, my heart thunders and my stomach churns at the teasing memory.
Why does this matter, hours before dawn?
Robert Frost, you old beggar in the night, I know those miles, to begin my shift, long and fleet of foot before the coming of the peace.
I turn, I pray, the darkness takes me, AT LAST!

Awoogah! Awoogah! The old Deusenberg horn hails the morning.
The wild things of my mind scatter, such a fleeting moment.
My aching feet patter to the can and So begins my day.

I look on my rumpled bed, heading for the door.

You and I shall meet again.

Author's Note

My first try at poetry. What do you think?