Plain American Language

I cut a sliver/of WC William's finger
and placed it inside/my philosophy...

Saturday, March 10, 2007

5 AM, Restless Leg Syndrome

It’s been three days now
that I’ve woken up at five AM,
and every day just like that:
awake, unable to grip
the meaning of the dream,
restless & too aware
of the oncoming dawn.

I was in a warehouse—
no light, but I knew where I was.
Drew showed up,
suited in his coat, helmet,
bike. What’re you doing here, I asked.
Not much, he said, and peered
over my shoulder. He looked as if
seeing a Kandinsky for the first time,
boring a hole behind me.
This is not a pipe, he said. I woke up.

I close myself up in my blanket—
the beginning of the day’s starting,
wrapped in a few oranges and blues.
I’ll wait a little while longer,
a last attempt at sleep,
before getting up to shower and shave off
the night and early morning.

3 comments:

Heather said...

I love this, especially the last stanza. Did you write it?

Victoria said...

That previous comment was by me. Sorry about the sneakiness and stolen identity.

thehubcapkid said...

hah, that's fine. yes, i wrote it.