Someone Took

Someone Took
my pajamas -
the blue plaid flannel flannel pajamas I liked so much -
and now they're gone. My daughter says you know, Mom,
things disappear, but things actually don't just
up and disappear. The last time I was here
someone stole money - I don't remember how much but it
wasn't even mine, it was
my daughter's so in a way I was the
one who stole it first, although
it was my intention to return it to her. And now
the gorgeous pajamas. If I get some more I know exactly
where I will hide them where they won't be stolen again but
probably I will never get any more, not while I'm here anyway. I
have to sleep in this stupid sort of gown that gaps in the back
and twists every which way. Hard enough to sleep
anyway but worse in this thing. Maybe I'll take it off and see if I
can sleep in my birthday suit, as we used to say. Or maybe I
just won't sleep, that
seems probable. Good thing I have
Rick Lupert's honeymoon poems to
read over and over. That's
better than sleep anyway.