Einstein On The Beach

Some nights the dog has nightmares and it keeps you awake,
because he hollers and thrashes and squeals
like a drunken twenty-one year old getting their first piece of ass
in the car parked outside your bedroom window on a
Tuesday night;
Sometimes the dog has nightmares and it keeps you awake
because he’s just one room over
from the kid that’s coughing and coughing
in his sleep
tossing and turning like a theoretical physicist
riding the waves of a chilly Atlantic Ocean
while contemplating the nature of a piece
of light;
Some night the dog has nightmares and it keeps you awake,
not because you’re laying in bed,
but because you’re scared to step over him,
relieving him of the sleep that he has earned
by his being,
That you are jealous of;
Some nights I want to pass out and forget that I’m who I am,
and chase cars, or cats
or go running in the night trying to catch that one last
scent of the black and white cat that’s falling off in the distance
into the sun
into the shallow sand
into the water
into the night
where soft paws meet soft air
and drift off to where nightmares and dreams and wakefulness
aren’t much more than a bad refrain
in the insomniac’s
meandering blog post,
between sips of beer
and incautious drops of tears.