As with anything else in the world, begin
right where you are: the floating, fixed-
point that is the center of the universe that is
the inside of your head. You. Now circle
the bed three times like a dog that does
things not completely understandable
to itself. This should make you tired, or else
you may start mourning a long-lost pet
from your childhood. Either one
is pointless because what you want
is to sleep. Not to be selfish, but sleep
is simply too personal to believe
what works for everybody else fits
your needs. You are far from home,
tired in a strange bed, lonely in the way
you always are before sleep arrives
to join you. Think of something else.
What is the diameter of a square?
A triangle? Rhombus? Parallelo... stop it.
Diameter is something about circles.
You remember that from Math class
in the 8th grade, where you sat behind
your ex-girlfriend and the new boyfriend
she found after you. At least you think
it was after, but then you remember
the angles of her face the last week
of your relationship. The way ripples
don't build from nothing. All of a sudden
you two were no longer you two, just
another two people after a love that turned
the corner to ruin. Ever since, nothing
has changed- corners are still things you fail
to turn and instead, find yourself backed into.
Come back to this bed. Listen to the circle
of your breathing. You turned the coffee-maker
off, before you left on this trip, right? Yes.
Of course you did. You always do that.
There is every reason to believe you did
this time. Sure you did. Remember, circles
are things with no ends that mean nothing
other than exactly what they seem: lines that are
endless in their ability to turn on themselves; more
cutting edges that startle you awake; places
with no corners where you can find sleep.