Insomnia (poem)

Insomnia

"I, too, dislike it."
I look for a way
to get some sleep.

I imagine a rural scene
walking through an Aspen grove
into a meadow filled with wildflowers
an explosion of colors
zooming in on a single specimen
its petal    molecules
atoms    electrons
a wave of energy
by the gods, this is cosmic!
awesome spiritual ... wakeful

I list all the women I've ever
gone out with. Damn! I'm proud
to remember so many and surely
some I've forgotten.
I remember them in different ways.
Names faces personalities
voices bodies sexual encounters
arguments.

I don't remember everything about
any of them. I realize I owe many
an apology. Only two owe me
an apology. I linger with each
remembering the good times
forgetting the bad times
and soon I'm more awake
than when I started.

I meditate in my head
imagining a lotus position
imagining my voice
ooooommmmmm
which becomes aaaaahhhhh
which becomes eeeehhhhh
at which time my wife
elbows me in the ribs
shut the fuck up

I scoot away and close my eyes
and when I open them again
it is morning the room
in gray light and apparently
I dozed a bit after all
though surely I'll need a nap
in the afternoon.

Naps are the children of insomnia.
I, too, dislike it.

--Charles Deemer