Insomnia: A Love Poem

I don't sleep anymore. 

Sleep deprives me 
of the spots in my eyes
that turn into stars

somewhere between the late-late 
night show
and the coffeepot timer. 

I can trace them into constellations
with my broken fingernails

and find Adam
reaching for God
like I reached for you that night

when the bottle was empty
and my hopes were higher 

than the Man in the Moon 
after a dime bag and a forty. 

Yeah, that's pretty high...