there's still time

a man in a black
suit
is looking for me.
when I see
him coming down the street
I step
into a doorway, or an alley.
I ball myself up
and crouch
behind a garbage can.
sometimes I climb up
a fire escape
and lie upon a roof.
all day
I see him out of the corner
of my eye. I can hear
his shallow breathing.
he's relentless
with that paper in his hand.
he's been following me for
years,
since I was a child,
and has come close
a few times to putting
his hand
upon my shoulder.
but not yet.
not yet. there's still
time.