"The Sudden Wave Of Silver Born In You"

I'm having trouble sleeping tonight.
I'm just not tired and I have a little headache, but soon it'll be day again so I have to try.

I always sleep on the right side of the bed. Left if you're standing at the foot.
My head on the right and my feet drifting diagonally over to the left.

I tossed and turned, pillows, no pillows. I actually prefer no pillows. An animal in her den. Nothin' doin'. Sleep ain't happenin'.

So I slide over to the other side of the bed. Uncharted. To where my tiny dog lies curved on her back, a fluffy apostrophe. Her fur is cream, but in these shadows she looks silver.

I reach out to touch her, extra soft after her haircut, like when she was a puppy. She bats at my hand with delicate paws, licks my fingertips. Sniffs my eye. Moves so that she's leaning against me, sighs.

I think, to other people it might look like I'm falling apart. But here in the dark, I'm falling back together. My own pieces come home to me. My guts settle down, tired of swimming.

The truth is, I don't want to share my bed yet. I can stretch across it sideways, and tonight I do just that. I like to lie here on my own, in the cool spot next to my soft little cloud dog. 

To stare at the window and not worry, just watch the images my mind shows me: a forest at night, a moonlit meadow, flowers. I can wander among glowing branches and I know I'm safe here on my own. Nobody watching. Nobody taking anything from me. I can recite little lines of Neruda to myself, and Shakespeare. I know all my favorite parts.

"Take bread away from me, if you wish, but do not take from me your laughter."

"Swear not by the moon, th'envious moon..."

"... el olor de las peluquerĂ­as me hace llorar a gritos..." 

I love it here in my head. I go swimming. I tiptoe around. No one's snoring. No one's taking all the leg room. No one's making it too hot. No one's waking me up from the middle of my sleep, instead of letting me finish dreaming. 

One day, I'll be ready for company in here again. There is other sweetness to be had. Charmers who, when they meet you, they kiss you on the hand. And you feel like Rita Hayworth for a second, and they know it, and you laugh. 

But I just climbed a willow tree, and I'm not ready to come down yet. I've got Pixie's gentle breathing, my favorite nightgown, and quiet. 


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