Oversleeping
We fell asleep with the windows (and a door) opened, knowing
anything could happen in the middle of the night -
burglary/intrusion/birds flying/scents of the city seeping/dreams escaping/rain, pouring -
and we woke (I woke) -
so suddenly
to the deafening burst of raindrops pounding on the window
adjacent to my dream space. Sleepwalking,
almost, all four limbs sprang from the covers
to the bathroom, to the windows, to the door, closing,
slamming, somehow knowing we would have otherwise woken
up soaked
(in more places than one.)
Lately, we’ve been oversleeping,
ignoring the sounds of thunder and the radio calling
us every morning for an early rise and shine. (We know
the snooze by heart and how to turn a broadcast into a lullaby,
programmed, like the rest.)
The only good remnants about waking up
late, aside from being next to you, are the moments
when headlines dissolve
into dreams and really, there is no deciphering
life from make believe.
(Reality is relative.)
Lately? This:
April 28, 2011
