A poem about letting go of all worries and appreciating the simple things in life, like being able to see the stars in the sky. Main character sits with his girlfriend to appreciate the tranquility of the present. Comments about the neighbors, big businesses, and the economy help paint the picture of the setting a little bit, hinting towards being poor.

This poem continues my present trend of poetry where my lack of sleep and lack of dreaming takes place as the main subjects.

"The stories I seek/ Aren't seen for weeks" deals with my lack of dreams when I finally do get to sleep.

Xanadu is the place of an *****-influenced dream Samuel Taylor Coleridge had, resulting in the poem "Kubla Khan". The mention of Xanadu is supposed to take flight to the dream-like state of mind, resulting in odd choices of descriptive language and a sort of ranting.

"Where prose is always posing" is describing the influence of the poem, saying that prose is constantly forming in my dreams. Two lines later, the word "Contortions" is used to describe the type of posing the prose is doing, saying that the poetry is confusing, incomplete, and/or twisted.

"[M]eek/ And humble banter stew" is describing the tone most of my poetry has, saying that it gives off polite and humble undertones while the sentence structure is "banter". The word choice of "stew" pertains to the definition, "A state of agitation, uneasiness, or worry." So meek and humble banter, but filled with agitation, uneasiness, or worry.

"That will never do/ Political shrieks,/ But yet is self-exposing." Is saying that I won't resort to talking about politics in my poetry (I think very negatively about bringing politics into such a beautiful medium, hence the word choice "shrieks"), but by bringing up the subject of politics at all, I poked fun at myself with "But yet is self-exposing." I'm playfully teasing my own poetry.

Each line either has 5 or 7 syllables per line, but I chose not to bother with a meter; I felt too much organization would both limit what I had to say and also give it a much less worrisome feel to it.

"Stew to Stories, Maybe Soon..." is me saying that I hope my sleeping problems will be resolved and will stop worrying me.

After having trouble sleeping and trying to find out why, I thought maybe my depression had some connection to it; in this poem, that connection is indeed the problem. Originally inspired by a song my dad wrote.