This morning, you are loud and insistent
I roll over, frustrated; my fingers scan the contours of your hard little body
Practiced motions, but today I get it wrong; you emit strange and unpleasant noises while I seek the spot I know so well that will send us back to contented oblivion
And at last I am there; I apply gentle insistent pressure; you are satisfied and quiet down at last, but I say nothing
I just roll over and try to fall asleep, hating your unrelenting insistent demands and everything else you represent, and thinking: Why is it so hard to find the snooze button?
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