Sleepiness

I’ve always been prone to sleep.
I like 9 hours a night,
and a long nap following a long lunch:
A hot, sloppy sandwich, milk in a big cup,
a sleeping pill. At lunch I like
eating alongside warm and blurry people,
comfortable figures, muttering
their dreams of sailing, their dreams of flying.

Some people don’t like the fog but I do.
There’s fog when you sleep,
fog on the doorstep of every day,
fog waiting for your return, loyal as a dog.

The more I sleep,
The more quickly a year passes.
The more I sleep,
The more fog collects on my glasses.
The more I sleep,
The sooner I’m dead.