One of My Turns

I feel it coming on
hitting me like a
screwdriver to the temple
that spiritual sanctuary
of my own sanity.
I’m withdrawing
back into my eggshell
of concrete and cinder blocks
Back into syndicated sitcoms
buffalo chicken organic corn wild rice
casual touches of affection
that signify much more
my cat crying as she carries
in a stuffed tattered fish,
the other one sacked out
on her sunset afghan from
a thrift store. Yes, this is
where I belong.

2.25.11