Let a dog's barking
in the distance
lull me to sleep.
Let the fading whizz
of a plane
lull me to sleep.

A lizard chirps in.
Small and sudden,
it will not jolt me.
Let it lull me to sleep.

Let me not count the ticking
of the clock.
It will keep me
awake.
Let it lull me to sleep.

I close my eyes and
speak in my mind:
Please let me sleep.

In his crisp navy blue
shirt and brown-rimmed
glasses, the professor
stands in front
of his class:
It is not in your
principles, he says.
Not in your mindset
at the moment.
Not in your attitude
or way of looking at
things---
that is why it does
not manifest
in your behavior.
Stunned, his class falls
silent.
Eleanor, one of the brightest
among them, recalls
the moment:
she wished the sound of
crickets would drown
out the silence.

And then they stopped.
Little frogs stopped their night sounds.                    
I couldn't figure out how to describe the sound.
Certainly they weren't chirping
for they were not birds          
Nor cricketing for they were not crickets.
Quirky quaking.  
But isn't quaking quake,    
which means to shake violently?
They seemed to be
tiny ribbets actually
Perhaps two whole steps higher
on the piano keys--
higher than the pitch I have
in my head.      
Perhaps even an octave higher.

No matter.
They were tiny ribbets to me.    
Tiny ribbets actually.

I could blame you
but what good
would that do?

He wishes she'd
understand him
but she doesn't even
want to hear him
utter
a single
word
to her.