Sleepus Interruptus

          My brain often reminds—I was once much more free of cares.
          In the pajama years, my heart thrummed light all thru the night.
          Until my supposedly-asleep adolescent ears heard Johnny Carson.
          On Tonight, in black & white, he jested about statistics.  Sleep attire.
          How much we wore; at what age. My brain no longer retains the funny.
          It probably wasn't (even though Ed, Doc & the audience had to chuckle).
          That night, my mind decided to completely remove myself from childhood.
          I tossed it, rumpled, on the rug—the next morning I dropped it in the hamper.
          The next thirteen and a half thousand nights weren't carefree—my brain recalls.
          There were the bunks of clothed nights in open-bay barracks hounded by snores.
          The months singing the sleepingbag blues, just catchin a snooze in all but my shoes.
          And the occasional fright; foxhole without light; desperate night forced to nap upright.
          Or even those rare unkissed but unmissed, pulling the full-moon into the next's sun-rays.        
          Sleep is now a skittish kitten, creeping in after all sounds (internal and external) extinguish.
          White noise from a nearby brook does help damp down the unexpected, nearby coyote's yip.
          Earplugs help transcontinental flights or when an inconsiderate bucking fastard is playing music.
          From books on the nightstand to Bogie downstairs on-demand, the sandman has many assistants.
          Warm mint tea in the evening, a bedtime valerian/melatonin dose and then a nice refractory period.

          Ginny's title today:  A Song That Makes You Fall Asleep caused me to sketch this prose-ish poem.  There are no songs that make me fall asleep, lull me toward rest, nor do anything besides wake me...except white noise or—like the two-hour nap inducing video above—waves (and I might even be woken around the 17 and 42 minute marks of this, when some rude seagull shouts 'wake up!').


Scientific Chick said...

I really enjoyed this poem. You're very talented!

I tend to fall asleep very easily, but I've become addicted to this beach sounds-generating app on my iPod. It's amazing how much you can come to need something you never needed before.

veach glines said...

Thank you Julie.