When I Can’t Sleep

When I Can’t Sleep

When I can’t sleep
I think about polar bears

and when I can’t think about polar bears
I pretend that I’m climbing the Empire State Building

and when I can’t pretend that I’m climbing the Empire State Building
I stick my feet in goulash instead of galoshes

and when I can’t do that
I pretend that fate hasn’t started its own swim team

and when that doesn’t work
I make sure I can still spell ‘Cheetos’ in my head

and if I’m having a hard time with that
I watch a movie

and after that’s over
I read three boxes of comics

but if I’m sleeping downstairs
and the comics are upstairs
and I don’t feel like going upstairs

I hit the punching bag in the backyard
and when the punching bag kicks my ass

I write angry letters to the President of Diet Sprite
and when those letters are ignored

I watch documentaries about sharks
and when those documentaries are over

I dream about bathing
but because the plumping
doesn’t plum shit in this apartment

I skip the tub and re-read every one
of Richard Laymon’s Beast House novels instead

and after the Beasts are done corpse-fucking
I count millions of zombies on the ceiling
and after the zombies have devoured the counting

I wonder what Bono’s
been up to these days
and after deciding I don’t give a shit
not that I’ve got anything
against Bono or anything

I wonder what it’d sound like
if I tied a harmonica to my dick
and tried to hump “The Star Spangled Banner”

and after remembering that
“The Star Spangled Banner” no longer
wants anything to do with me

and all these other things go to hell
I think of you

 

(from my book The Aftermath, etc.  Monkey Puzzle Press)