The Guy in the Apartment Across the Hall
What began with a nod
was followed up by a “hello”
and then “how was your day?”
Communication went no further.
That night, cops busted down
the door of his apartment,
arrested the guy on suspicion
of being the Southside Strangler.
And to think,
he could have invited me
in for cocktails,
wrapped a tie around my neck
when I wasn’t looking,
and then yanked it tight
until my breath gave out.
A close call
for my life.
Another setback
for my loneliness.
An Explanation for Your Day
What's lunacy but the headache you awaken with,
how it mutates
during daylight hours,
is full-blown psychosis
by the time
you slip out the door,
into the raging night.
What's madness but your phobias
imposing on others in random ways, a chance meeting
on a dark backstreet, defying explanation
but demanding resolution.
What's insanity but your reaction
to this accidental contact, haphazard and yet feverishly ordained.
And what is calm and peace,
but the aftermath
of another random killing,
as you slink back
to your safe place,
sleep deep in the womb,
are born again, come morning,
with a delicious ceaseless
pounding in your brain.
John Grey is an Australian poet and U.S. resident, recently published in Leading Edge, Poetry Salzburg Review, and Hollins Critic. His latest books, Leaves On Pages, Memory Outside The Head, and Guest Of Myself are available through Amazon. He has work upcoming in The Fifth Di, Space and Time, and Holy Flea, and has won a Rhysling Award for genre poetry.