SLEEP IS A DANGEROUS EXILE

Watches, shoes and outer garb?

Superfluous.

Loose-fitting cottons

will do or nothing at all,

depending on the thermostat.

Some claim that sleep’s the ultimate

democracy this side of death

although it wastes one-third

of every day and every life

in deference to nothing but fatigue.

Asleep, you feel defenseless

and alone.

Nightmares

will stun you like a storm at sea,

quicksand will suck you

under, and the dead will rise.

It’s more than Freudian suppression

that’s at work.

It’s life’s ongoing

war against itself, and you’re

the victim.

The lone escape

is waking up.

You leave

your dreams the way a swimmer

leaves the ocean, no longer

threatened by that element.

But dangers

never die, and you will swim

those depths again….

Remember

the swerving car that almost

ran you down?

It grazed you

like a passing curse and smeared

its fender salt like whitewash

on your coat.

An inch here,

an inch there….

But in your dreams

you’re always hit.

Your coat’s

entangled with a tire.

You’re being

dragged and mangled by the wheels.

The driver speeds away

but not from guilt or fear

of being found at fault.

It seems

he never even saw you.

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