Never resting,
in those days,
in those places
sleep was
a pretty girl
playing
at hard to get.
When you see
us chin on chest
in parks or
wobbly-necked
in air-conditioned
public spaces
it is hard not
to count us lazy.
We never rest
even if we sleep.
And each one
of us courts
the pretty girl.
We want her.
She offers us peace.
Some with brown
bottles, others
with black-bottomed
spoon and I as often
as anyone.
I told myself stories
and poems.
Bedtime stories.
I wrote another world.
I dreamed of having
a voice.
Interviews on art, poetry, romance.
I live my dreams now.
I saw Carlos
stretched out
on a pallet
behind the old
Veterans Center
yesterday
and I think
how lucky that
I am rested
and still have a shot
at being relevant.
