holed up

i’m in an odd place with it, a transition.
i might be getting better, but it could
go either way. when the boys in blue
kick in your door, haul you out of bed,
that’s when you know. i’d like to think
they’re on their way now and i’m ready.
there’s a chair under the door, water
and canned food if i need it, batteries
for the camcorder, and your number
on my speed dial. in the meantime
i will keep on writing, writing, writing.

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