you need to sign for this

someone that looks like

her is at the door.

i look through the peep hole

then crouch down,

crawling across the floor.

what's she doing here,

i say to the dog, who begins

to lick my face.

she's going to kill me after all

those crazy

but true poems i wrote about her.

making mince meat out of all

her mental disorders and

fake image.

there's another knock.

the doorbell rings and rings.

i slide my body towards

the back door

as my dog finds his red ball

and tosses at my face.

no, i tell him, not now.

we have to get out of here.

we have to escape.

then i hear a voice. hey, hey.

i know you're in there.

i can see you from the window.

i just need you to sign this.

you have a package.

i can't leave it on the porch.

oh, i say, getting up.

i open the door and sign

the form.  thanks, i tell her.

was just doing a little stretching.

yoga. getting into yoga.

cold yoga, not that hot yoga stuff.

right, she says, throwing back

her long blonde hair. sure

you were.