Chitown

When I left on my four wheels
across interstates and
demarcations of time
you begged for rest like
a child denied
his dreams painted upon his mind
by green summer afternoons
on his back picking clouds
Now
facedown
upon a sponge of transference
materializations of hopes deferred
But rest,
as wakefulness was no friend
unkind to hope
inhospitable in youth
Sleep because you must
through this déjà vu
and ponder what might be made new
when
you rub the sand from your dry eyes.