80. The Sleep-Finder

I can sleep
In a ball on a train
In a box in the rain
In a chain on the street
In a field on a sheet
On the deck of a ship
Beneath a sink with a drip
Inside a coffin underground
Within a cage in the pound
Tied to ninety-nine balloons
Amidst a flock of quacking loons
Dragged behind a bouncy boat
Strapped to the horns of an angry goat
Driven through with twenty knives
Infected with a hundred hives
Swallowed by a humpback whale
Beaten by softball-sized hail
Stretched across electric fence
While my gut gets gaping dents
As brass-knuckled blows never stop
With my mouth stuffed o’er a filthy mop
On my ass or on my head
Looking awake or stone-cold dead
I can sleep almost anywhere, you see,
Under any circumstance, inadvertently –
For the secret to passing out on a dime
Is to always be sleepy, all of the time.