At 2 o'clock in the morning I awoke.
Lying there I sorted out
Every detail of my life
And every discussion of the previous day,
Having satisfied myself
That angels don't have wings
Because there is no air in outer space,
And the trapezius,
The pectorials,
And the deltoids
Would have to be monstrous
To propel a body so massive.
Angels would look more like bats
Than humans
(Origin of the vampire myths perhaps).
Having (at 4:15) abandoned all hope
Of going back to sleep,
I get up for a cup of hot cocoa,
While draping a blanket
Over my shoulders Instead of getting dressed,
Because there is a slight chance
That I might want to sleep
A couple more hours.
There are many mysteries
That I resolved
In the small hours of morning.
But like a dream
They have all faded
Into the cold of this winter morning.
Is it solipsistic in this room,
Or is it just me?
The solutions are melting away
Like the ice crystals on the window--
The ice crystals,
The dreams,
And the vampires--
They all fade away with the dawn.
I realize that I am a mere mortal,
Retired,
With too much time and space.
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