there's a policeman at my door

buried

in this snow drift

of paper

on my desk

and floor,

i have a note to myself,

a reminder

of where i'm supposed

to be

on a certain date

at a certain time.

the string around my

finger is of no

use,

and i've spilled red

wine

on my calendar.

i believe i'm

losing bits and pieces of

my mind

and now

there's a policeman at

my door.