Middle of another night,
my mind colonized by the evening’s headlines.
It seems like the world is losing all its tenderness.
I try to fall asleep by counting my breath.
I imagine myself a wakeful dream, dreaming itself.
I review the day—a white Corvette convertible
ablaze with sunlight, smoke from barbecues
drifting over the neighborhood,
ghost vapors rising out of the sidewalk,
a man at a bus stop tearing up pieces of paper.
Lying perfectly still, suspended
between the soft witchery of words
and the rough skin of the world,
I doze on and off.