Elixir of the Insomniac

Three glowy symbols
on an old maytag oven
tell me that it is one 1:00.
I walk into the kitchen alone,
the tiled floor cold after
the comforts of bed.
I spend three minutes looking
in the medicine cabinet searching
for God knows what until I give up;
opting again for "old fashion" medicine.
Light fires briefly like a beacon
as the freezer door opens long
enough for me to get ice into my cup.
I lovingly pour the supposed
antidote into my plastic
goblet with a crackle as
the ice quakes apart.
I add a hint of blue
labeled sugar water
so that that I feel
maybe less pathetic.
drink. drink.
Drink til' the ice chills my gums.
Maybe now I'll be able to sleep.