Sometimes it gets so quiet that my head hurts,
then i see a slender beam of light escaping
through my curtain,
at 4 am,
and all is well for 15 seconds.
until I jerk to reality,
and go pee,
in the tiniest bathroom in the world.
but big enough to fit us.
sometimes at 3 am,
when sleep is out of the question,
i hear the distant rumble of a train.
bellowing through the night,
someone on that train can’t sleep either,
thinking of stuff he cannot fix,
like I think of myself.
To think that things cannot be fixed,
is a folly.
even a broken bone is healed,
what then is a broken heart?
only sometimes to get fixed soon,
you need a hand.
a pair of hands,
and a pair of eyes,
and a pair of arms.
“Come here”, I say out loud in my empty room,
“I’ll fix you.”