I'm jumpy, sick. It's one in the morning:
two cups of coffee and your eyes
are keeping me awake.

You were watching me and
I was watching you tonight,
but then you left in silence.

I wish I could read you.
There are so many things to wish for,
like better grades and smaller noses,
money, fame, and peace on earth.

I wish that somewhere out there,
beneath the pale moonlight,
sunshine on my shoulders made me happy,
and I could fly, I could fly, I could fly . . .
                              

                            Sleep? No thanks, I'll sit here,
under blinking fluorescent lights
and type bad poetry into this box.