I find it hard to say goodnight.
Another tweet will stave the dread.
They say a screen is just like light—
I reach out, hungry, from my bed.
At three, the Facebook works are slow.
Despite its flaws, this day can’t die.
The others with their touchscreens know
What clocks to set their dying by.
The West Coast sleeps. Asia’s awake.
I lie smugly in the day before,
Hoarding the hits that I can take,
Less lonely in the silent roar.
They say a screen is like the sun.
I hit refresh. The night’s not done.