Catch Some Sleep

sleep has left town from
the train station, late at night.
Fog, of course.
And sleep is the train
I almost caught not by
running down the platform
but by (sleepily) switching
metaphors to stand in
a cool river wearing waders
breathing in the damp clean
air Sleep is the clever fish.
One testing tug
then gone. If only
I’d held myself differently
I might be asleep right now
instead of back at the station
unread novel unopened
on my rumpled lap
floor covered with scattered
fish hooks shiny with
shed scales
hoping another train
swims by soon.