[35] Trying to Sleep, Michael Milburn


             …this sinister adventure of each night, Baudelaire

I think of it as visiting a city,
stepping into an onslaught of bustle,
cars to dodge, signs to heed, sirens,
as if being up and about
had postponed the process
of thinking things through.

If daytime is about doing
and night about meaning,
no wonder I can’t drop off
when what’s called for
is so suicidal in nature,
the only difference being
the duration of the death.

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