Sleep boy, give up the night.

He set the heat level
Of his electric blanket.
It was at a comfortable level.
He creased the window open
So that only a small cool breeze would set in.
He changed into his loose pajama pants
And lied on his side facing the window.
He closed his eyes;
Couldn't go to sleep.
He could only linger
In an unwavering consciousness.

She slept in the room close to his.

He gave up his rest
Craving more time with her.
In a fit of playfulness nurtured by his impulsion,
He took a box of loose change
And a cigarette.
He leaned half-way out the window
And he lit the cigarette.
He picked pennies from the box
And took aim at her window.
He threw six of them.
Three were caught by the wind and didn't make a sound -
Only plummeted.
The other three were slightly off
And met the wall
With a light tick.

He smoked his cigarette thinking.
He licked his lips.
He felt foolish.

He started whistling -
The notes oscillating between high and low.
He tried whistling like a bird
Improvising melodies.
He blew staccatos.
He attempted songs.
But he couldn't whistle well enough
To wake her up.
After one last good try,
His mouth was dry, his lips were chapped.
He felt light-headed.

He flicked the cigarette
And leaned into the cool air.
He wondered if anybody was observing him
And his little game.
Any witnesses remained undeclared;
The moment was confidential.
He looked at her window for a moment
And he withdrew.
He lied on the couch.
He wrote
And then he forgot her.