Refuge
Jon Mathewson
When you run away
from something
long enough,
you become that thing
but apparently I ran too fast
and got here early, good parking
but the organizers aren't even here,
the janitor looks at me
like I must be in charge,
so I find a seat and look disinterested
so I do not seem too eager
to be here so early.
They keep us well fed here.
The food remains in boxes
I could go and open one,
but that would just confuse the janitor
who looks like he just picked up that broom,
so I'll just sit here awhil,
busy myself with this notebook,
catching my breath, watching the door,
maybe strking up conversations
with others calming down,
hoping whatever is chasing us
keeps running on by.
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