Inside Pitch
I wish I could be
comfortable.
Instead I'm a ball
of stress, curled up
on the inside.
On the outside,
feet dangling off
the bed, pen in one hand,
all nonchalant.
My ribs have grabbed
my chest, my heart
in a vice grip.
Garden-variety anxiety.
Triggered by the World Series
on TV here, and in the rec room,
three hospital stays, three dark Octobers.
R.P. McMurphy would
be green with envy.
Day 2
November 2, 2016
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