Sleep

Nights are so much fun.

I used to agree with Eddy.

“The best time of the day,”

(He cites each night when it’s time to go to bed.)

First of all,

I can’t seem to get to bed at 11.

On good nights, like last night,

It’s around 11:20.

Hooked on TV,

DeRay comes up around 1 or . . . .

He can’t comprehend why I can’t sleep

while I’m worried he’s collapsed on the couch

and needs resuscitation;

Or why his fiddling around in the bedroom,

brushing his teeth, stumbling over the garbage can;

a loud beep when he turns his oxygen machine on;

then bounding and wiggling to get settled in bed

bothers me.

Suddenly he’s snoring (lightly with his sleep apnea mask on).

Can I get to sleep?

Twenty or so terse naps in six or seven hours.

Ice packs.  Hot pad.  Killer knees.

The inevitable bathroom breaks.

Twitching, turning; - therapeutic?

Then I wonder why I’m tired all the time.

Whatever happened to going to sleep

and waking up rested 6 or 7 hours later?

Blessed bygone era.