I awoke at two a.m., my reading light still on,
a book about the chupacabra of Boca Raton
lay open on my chest; I was a fan of science fiction,
the monsters of the southern hemisphere my new addiction.
‘Twas then I heard a growling sound from underneath the bed.
The creature from the pages had now crawled inside my head.
I closed the book. I killed the lamp and gave in to the night.
When morning came, I did not wake. They said I died of fright.