Full Moon Over Us

I can never sleep
when the moon is full,
the way it pulls
at the liquid part
of me. I fool myself
into thinking carbs
and milk will do
the job, but here
I am, hours later
and mere hours before
I'll have to rise for
a quick walk around
the block, my cup
of green tea,
and the day's race
to do all I imagine
must be done. Mourning
those lost hours
of sleep, jealous
of my bed still
there in my bedroom,
lazing.
I think it should
have to get up
and walk with me,
ride the long miles
to work, scratch
it's head the way
I will a thousand
times today, to jiggle
loose the parts still
inclined to doze.