"The question that plagues every sleeper" by Eva Valenti
Where else would I be at 4 AM but on a Greyhound bus,
gazing out into a dawn just beginning to yawn its way over the mountains
and in through the oversized round-cornered window,
listening to a song only I can hear,
sleepy but smug (anything's significant when you're the only one who sees it)?
Most likely I would already be wrapped up in silent oblivion,
untouched by dawn,
home instead of heading home,
inward- instead of forward looking...
or perhaps thrashing in nightmare,
churning in the throes of the desperate question that plagues every sleeper:
is anyone else awake?