One day I window-watched for things to write;
the next day I was lost, and underneath
the spell of fever, hot, with skin stretched tight,
I slept curled up with clenched and grinding teeth.

Then came the dreams of elevator shafts
that moved from side to side, not up and down,
and misplaced babies, loosed on Huck Finn rafts.
The nightmares drenched me, but, before I drowned,

when those two weeks had passed, I stood and walked
back to my window, weak, with blurry mind
to peek outside and find myself quite shocked
that all the world was managing just fine.

My neighbors' lawns and lives seemed much the same
as last I sat behind this window frame.