Pull the sheets up, envelopes over the eyes.They have tiny toothpick sticks propping them and stopping them in their tracks. That is of course, if eyes had tracks. Like a train on its way to a town in the West. When I close them, the neon blues and reds and whites shine freedom of thought

 

Unrestricted.

 

America keep me quiet.

 

America, the movies in my mind will not cease. Projecting black mixed with daytime questions. The show is not finished until the house lights come up.

Oh God. It’s 4:31 in the morning, and the streaks of sun sneak in between the curtains. Like flipping a page, the end is here and the next is in sight, pulling at dreams by bootstraps.

 

And when the dawn breaks like joyful Jewish glass

And I fall into my car,

I am crying.

The insomniac paradise of

Raindrops on my windshield,

Drumming like a ticking clock.

Sea salt of beauty in the air.

They are breathing and loving,

Overcome by the madness and the passion

Of this sleepless life.

 

[Because what is the point of breaking

Your day in half?

When you have only so many hours, don’t think that wasting

a handful is pardonable.]

Oh, tears of joy.