Insomnia

The sleeping pill bottle on my night stand throbs

loud and then louder 

Stewing in its failure, 

the proud produce of a successful industry.

I lie on the bed, eyes closed

feeling for that girl in the movie 

She loved being fucked by her father

Her daddy cried when she committed suicide.

I saw the Ramadan food bazaar

He was alone, an old man

Something else in place of his nose, or nothing

The terminal cancer board hung over him.

I took deep breaths till I am in that hotel room

There I get up from my peaceful sleep

The muezzin from the Blue mosque,

calling the faithful to prayer.

The gay muezzin from that Malayalam classic

He died in a government district hospital,

opposite the Top Notch bakery 

I buy sweet buns and cream cakes from there.

I have been there as a 6-year-old,

product of a brittle marriage

I weep with my brother,

over our parents we grew up to dislike.

Hungry, I get up and make an omelette

Not with olive oil and mushrooms

The kind in my earliest memory of it

In coconut oil and with it I pop another pill.