Insomniac Narcoleptic, Making Soup at Three in the Morning (Sleep in until Six)

It’s about the soup:

What are you doing?
I’m making soup.
It’s three in the morning.
It’s turkey soup.

It becomes the face of a door.
White, chipped.
The sound of knocking.
You have to
You have to
You have have have to
Get Up.

Are you hungry?
No.
We have soup, and that bread that you like.
Mama, it’s three in the morning.

But Mama.
You have to.

It becomes twelve hours in a hotel room:
But Mama, we haven’t eaten since last night.
I’m too young to drive the rental car.

It becomes
Just shut up, just shut up, okay?
It’s not my fault.