I’d had a “good night’s sleep,” meaning
thinking of waking, and waking,
shifting closer together, and then not.
That and the music we’re getting, sometimes
timely, sometimes incomplete, like Ulysses and Penelope
talking it over in a back room, not 
so much concerned if people hear, after
all it’s their problem isn’t it? Or
I was racing along the moon, the water’s edge
seemed about right, but how was I to know