Poem 16. I can’t sleep he says

and I don't remember my dreams either.

What was the last one?

He runs his finger around the rim of his glass.

I dreamed I couldn't sleep and I was watching late night television.

The sign behind him is for a band that played last week.

It was as real as this. This could be a dream, he says.

He stops the waitress with the Japanese Print tattoo on her shoulder.

He orders a beer and asks me if I want one.

No, I say. I'm living the alternative lifestyle.

Don't take that stuff so seriously, he says. You're airy enough. 

I want to live well, even in this moment.

Hours pass. I am drifting.

Sleep with me, he says.

He doesn't like to sleep alone.

Sleep with me, he says again.

While he sleeps, I look out his window in the windws of the house opposite.

There are no stars.

He kicks in his sleep and I give him my hand to hold until he stops.