Tomorrow Will Be All Right

Tomorrow will be all right for I'll sleep sober through the night: No water chugs at dawn, no lamps burning awful light. Brain cells working fully, no cursing getting tight. I'll wake up kind of early, make coffee and a bite.

At least that's what I tell myself. But what if I can't fall asleep? What if my thoughts, unencumbered by brain damage, keep screaming a terrible word like "flabbergasted" or "melanoma?" Ah, vile synapses. I know their secret (electricity!), but they're just too fast for me to control without chewing aluminum foil or sucking a nine-volt.

Or what if I'm locked into that fantasy where my job is to pull hot drowning girls out of the community pool? I think even the narcoleptic would agree that that would create too much excitement to sleep. You can't let them drown, even in imagination. Especially when they'll be so grateful.

Grateful enough to find me some ether.