The dark walk to the bathroom chills me

(the temp must be very, very cool for sleep)

and I hurry to the cold seat aware

there’s no holding back …

The return path is familiar enough to attempt a blind walk,

eyes closed completely:

the plan to stay close to sleep

and then return to sleep, easily.

Damn. Didn’t work. Never does.

I crawl into a cool bed, pull the covers to my chin

(oh my God, are those hairs back?)

to be suddenly drenched in sweat

A fire rages from my toes to my shoulders

I MUST UNCOVER IMMEDIATELY

or risk a disappearance into a large, salty pool.

The third hot flash of the night.  Great.

(The air conditioned room offers no help!)

The heat leaves, finally, and  I tremble under

the circulating ceiling fan above my bed.

Sleep escapes.  It’s 2 am and I’m awake.

Again.

The dog snores softly from his bed

He’s a puppy and sleep rates high

on his doggie to do list.

I long for sleep to return to my list as I search

hopelessly for that comfortable spot I found

before my bladder awoke me.

I finally doze, my head fills with dreams

of forgotten lines in the school play,

of suddenly discovered nakedness,

of the loud, lost kitten at my window …

NO, I awake completely, it’s my cat, at my door,

who seeks my company and a bowl of kibble.

The coffee maker begins the scheduled brew

I surrender.

Menopause.  I hate you.