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Can't Sleep But Very Tired


by P.R. Mercado


I repeated your name like a mantra
and vomited black bile in the sink. 
Some Buddhist monk told me
if I recite it ten thousand times
you will be mine. 
I shouldn't believe that kind of nonsense,
but there is no possible path
between you and I
so I have resorted to nonsense. 
I have set my alarm for 1:11, 2:22, 3:33,
4:44, and 5:55 so that I can make a wish.
After sunset I wait outside for the first star.
I wander during the day
picking up stray coins
and carry them in my pocket
when we meet. 
One evening I even knelt down
by the bed, hands folded together,
like a lily flower,
and prayed to God. 
I said, “Aren't you supposed to be
the God of love?
You are a greater liar than I am.
I know you're busy.
But you need to do something.”
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