sleep as payment for a day’s work
long, dragging day,
blazing sun beating the asphalt ragged,
reading for hours at a time, studying for god knows what,
staring at a screen as the words fail to come,
lifting hundreds of pounds of coffee,
my back begins to screech,
i think i breathed in creosote,
i should probably go see a doctor about that,
but that’s a tomorrow problem,
tonight i will sleep,
i will sleep,
i will sleep
Fred Aiken Writing 