door. I checked the lock and got myself a glass of water.
I felt exhausted. I lay down on the couch, too
tired to make it to bed.
I am not sure how long I slept. I felt someone
watching me. With a start, I jumped up, grabbing the heavy ashtray
off the coffee table.
No, no one.
Outside the window, the shape. I stared.
It looked like a dog sitting up, it cocked its
head to the side.
He moved slowly, stopping several times to look
back at me as I followed him down a tunnel.
Wayne H. W. Wolfson has been published widely, including in Word
Riot, The Kit-Kat Review, Poetry Motel, Hobart and Winamop
(UK). He lives in Northern California.