You always eat in the middle of the night
but I should never complain.
When else would I stop and realize
these thoughts within my brain?
You eat and eat and go back to sleep,
but I'm left wide awake.
I'm hungry, too. (That's nothing new.)
I have a fast to break.
And I have hypotheses to try
and words to write into poems.
These midnight hours are full of ideas
I would have never known.
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