Sleepless by Keith Meatto
Insomnia here in Texas is like insomnia in Buenos Aires or Berlin or Tokyo or Wales. The noises and shadows are new, but it’s still you and your mind and the night.
The mattress is too soft; the frame is too hard. One pillow is too thick; one is too thin. The room is too bright with the shades open, too dark with them closed. The grackles and the blue jays are asleep now, but the crickets cha-cha all night long.
Earplugs block the sound. Eyeshades block the light. But both make you oblivious. Pills sedate you until you sleepwalk, clean out the fridge or drive to the store and forget everything the next day. Whiskey only conks you out until you have to pee.
The TV has five channels; two are in Spanish. Buy this machine for a flat stomach. Dial this number to chat and flirt with local singles. Try Boricua Motors. Descubre Nueva Musica. Discover old music: One two Three o’clock Four o’clock rock.
Turn on the lights. Pick up a book. Put it down. Turn off the lights. Outside the engines echo. Who drives so late at night? Whose van is parked next door? Is the gun shop on the corner open? If you die before you wake, pray the lord your soul to take.
You want to spin the globe and lift the sun. And if it finally rises, you’ll rejoice. Because only now, with daylight, are you safe to sleep.
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Keith Meatto
Born: Bronx, NY
Now Resides: Brooklyn, NY
Bio: Keith Meatto recently completed a residency at the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center for the Arts in Nebraska. His latest publications are in Opium and Ghoti; another story is forthcoming in The Northville Review. A graduate of Yale College and The New School (MFA), he has worked for many years as a teacher and a newspaper and magazine writer. He is now at work on a collection of short stories.
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image by emaleth.
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