#11

last night

instead of sleeping

it was important

I tried to recount all the places I slept 

as a teenager

so I didn’t have to go home

Home was that hard for me then

Counting doorways and men’s beds like sheep

but not sweet

Like old doors creaking open

Foyers to apt buildings

Back seats

Under trees in the park.

Strung

So tight

the morning sun

would strum me

decades later

I still

can’t sleep

without drugs

and I never  ever

ever miss the dawn.