A stranger has been following me.
I see him every morning
standing at the back of the bus.
He waits outside my office building.
Once I tried to talk to him,
he just walked away.
At night he stands in my front yard
under the tree.
I tried calling the police.
They came and talked to him.
Now they won’t return my calls.
I turned on the porch light,
yelled at him to go away,
let the dog out to chase him.
She just pissed on the porch
and ran back inside.
I have broken all my mirrors.
I have started taking a taxi to work.
Still he is there, just standing, watching.
One poet I know of dug a tunnel
trying to escape his stranger.
It didn’t work.
He is a great poet
yet even he cannot escape.*
So I decided to write this as a warning –
all the gateways are blocked by strangers.
You were right JP, there is no exit.
*The Tunnel, By Mark Strand