You have left your hat, but I do not trust it.
Maybe the sky should be stormier, its color the color
of my hair. There is a door. There is a doorbell. You
don’t ring it. I could not lock the door against you
but I have let you hold a key. Perhaps there could be shaking
at the foundations. Perhaps some plaster could fall.
The windows are stuck but I have not locked them.
I pulled the shades down but they are broken and torn. I have
cut the phone wires to your house now. I saw you push
them back through the wall. I have turned to sleep
but I hear you pounding. There is lightning. It was thunder.
That is all.
