Good Morning

 I wonder what it would be like to be able to sleep in. Ever since the army, I have not been able to do so. I awake no later than six and can't go back to sleep. Want to, but can't.

It's as if I must get up and check that the world has not disappeared in the darkness, to reaffirm the palpable. Endless disturbing dreams don't help. My nights are a Fellini movie of broken images: my ex-wife, vanished kids (their revenge, I suppose), lost lovers, blown up comrades all visit me regularly. If I could give up sleeping for good, I would.

So up I get. Drink coffee, smoke cigarettes, build a fire, check the creek, read, write, try to get my hands and mind around the substance of the world. Slowly, the dots reconnect and my own version of reality takes shape. The demons go back into their caves. The gargoyles settle into stillness. The ghosts fade. For a while at least.

Good morning...