Poetry

Anxiety

The paces quicken; Lori chatter

down the phone as time expands and collapses

in a moment of sirens and panic and onlookers who don’t know how to react.

Of course, it’s all in your head

as you raise your hands in surrender

to that great barrier:

the front door, the bus, the road, the airport.

Rubbing shoulders, no air, no space,

condensed further than canned milk

and becoming even more jelly-like,

melting against the heat and fear

until you

 

scream.

 

And then they look at you.

Crazy.

And walk away.