Asleep

On this trip, I’ve slept a lot. Of course,
I’ve slept in the hotel at night with windows open
As a gentle breeze played across my sweat-covered brow
Also in the bus during the day, and in the shade of ruins
It’s like my first trip fifty years ago, all over again
What has changed? The sleeper isn’t a young man of thirty
But an old man in his eighties, living his last years
Watching over him isn’t Eros, god of love, but
Thanatos, god of death, wearing Eros’ guise
As I doze off over and over again, I realize
The god of death is much kinder than the god of love
And much more youthful too