Thoughts pour into my brain ---
an old girlfiend,
a recipe for shrimp,
the dent in the hood of my car,
a dead squirrel,
mistletoe.
I refuse Xanax
and wait till five a.m. to make coffee,
hoping for sleep.
I watch Bobby Flay and Matt Lauer cook duck legs.
I listen to an infomercial for 80's rock.
I smoke cigarettes and feed the cats.
The dog's confused.
It's far too early for his morning dump.
He snores on the couch,
mocking me.
Lying on his back with his feet in the air,
he chases rabbits in his dreams.
And my dream curdles in a puddle of sleepless night.
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