When It Comes
.
The peace becomes unbearable,
The perfect contours of your life
Settled on perfectly symmetrical streets
And suddenly you realize
It’s a fire you want!
Something unexpected
That will make your head jolt
Side to side
Trying to catch whatever it was
That rushed past you
Ruffling your hair.
.
You’ll throw the laundry
In the street,
Pack as many books
As you can carry,
Burn the odds and ends
That cannot fit
Into the sad suitcase
And leave a poem
On your desk
Aptly titled “Goodbye.”
.
You’ll walk the old road
Out of town,
Or crack the sleeping car awake,
Rear forth in the early-morning frost,
The cigarette’s lonely cat’s eye
Your only beacon
In the old, untrusting dark.
Literary Tonic 
A very fine poem. I like it especially because it is a poem and not what is called a “prose poem.” Work went into crafting this. It is not prose hiding in drag.