Poets need lots of rest so that they can reflect on the human condition, daydream about making life better, and challenge their grandkids in wii. But they don't nap. This is not me. I don't care what you say. This is not me. It's not even a poor sketch of me. I have more hair...I think...My belly isn't quite that round. My glasses aren't perfectly round. I don't nap. I don't snore. This in not me. I am not in denial. This is not me. Did I tell you? This is not me. I get a solid eight hours of sleep every night. I kid you not. This is not me. I don't nap. I hardly ever get up in the middle of the night and go to the bathroom. I have an awesome bladder. I sleep like a rock because I don't nap. I don't own a rocking chair. My wife does. She owns a Lincoln rocker. I own a recliner. But I don't nap...zzz....zzz...zzz...zzz...zzz...zzz...zzz...zzz...zzz...
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