the only one awake in the world

i am confident in my ability
to find a seam in the night
where no one else's eyes are full
of beetles. you tell me,
"you need to sleep" & i hear,
"you need to bury yourself
in the yard." in high school
i used to set my alarm 
to one in the morning. i would wake up
& stick my hands in the inky sky.
purple stain. the smell of iron.
there i would sometimes find
boys & sometimes 
find teeth. my own teeth that 
wandered off while i was both 
trying to die & trying not to die.
in that way, i am an expert trapeze artist.
i can balance myself on the nose
of a father. i can steady my body
on a hitchhiker's thumb.
i hailed a ride to the city.
it was the oily time after midnight.
he fell asleep at the wheel 
& i drove for him. a grubby beard man
with grit under his fingernails.
we have all been so far from
rest that sleep feels supernatural.
i am convinced though that i have
found those sweet spots.
when the dark & the silence 
swallow each other ouroboros style. 
i'm not sure who is the head
& who is the tail but there i was.
the only person awake 
in the entire world. the silence
was soft like moss. i did not 
let myself close my eyes.
i drank in the aloneness. 
wrapped myself in it.
just as fast as it comes,
the moment always leaves 
in a blinking pair
of headlights. a bird sneaking in
through the back door to become
a little girl. the street lamp flickering 
& catching a boy on the roof.