In my bed

I hear them cry
and the crickets
crunching in the green glow
of moons and street lamps.
I should get up,
undress, step back
into the shower and soak.
But I am so very tired
still— and where
my body lies, there
ought not to be
crickets cricketing.
I know this much.
Clearly, I am unawake;
In another time and
different place. Clearly,
I’d be happier if I were
there. But here I am,
in my bed, where I am
the only one who can
be heard here.

written on 05/22/2011 by: Matt Kane