Cirque Du Lit

While waking
Charlie's chuckling easily
being, ( yes, rare) as he is,
cozily companioned-
though not well rested.

His nerves already half bested
as a garbage truck prowls
the back alley wheezing hydraulically
and the neighbor dog performs
the morning micturation
as per hilarious habit, sneezily.

A night spent navigating
the ungainly geometries
of foreign elbows, knees and hips
beneath a quilt,
patch by patient patch,
assembled by someone's
probably grandma,
leaves both her and him
not quite refreshed,
their individual patiences tested
by surprising snores,
unintelligible, midnite muttering quips,
the somniferous ramblings
of two brains dreaming
in precarious proximity
which, though not calamity,
might be dubiously dubbed
tragi-comedy.

The exigencies of the morning
being dictated by variants
on wage-slave drudgery,
half unconscious mumbles he
"We needs must get to work, us!
Damned be our rest-deprived
and over-cooked noodles!
Though we both be sleep-bereft
arriving late's employee theft!"

And so to this nonsense
two sleep-wrinkled mugs
bootstrap themselves into action
leaving the floppy-shoed,
jug-eared, honking knob-nose,
pillow juggling performance
(badly clowned,
still off by fractions)
to become more
professional protagonists,
now persnickety in pursuit
of a goodly cup of morning drug-
leaving behind a single rectangular ring
of their most unreknowned sleep circus.