Paranoia

A tall, black top hat spins and rolls to my feet,
toppled off the head of a mysterious man rushing down the street.
I don’t dare pick it up
paralyzed by fear
of what might be inside.

I never did trust rabbits
with their long, floppy ears
and fluffy puff tails, too cute for their own good.
Why would something so soft and cuddly be inside
a stiff beaver felt, chimney pot hat?

I slowly step away,
intending to go around
but a rabbit appears
even without my touch.
White fur matted,
twitching whiskers twitching,
pale pink eyes impassive.

My heart skips a beat
and my breath grows shallow, fear rises.
I turn my back,
the rabbit follows.
The top hat lay forlorn on its side.
Another rabbit appears.
Then another.
They multiply like rabbits do!
My time is up.
Lagomorphs are out to get me.

4 thoughts on “Paranoia

  1. Pat says:

    Learned a new word today. Love your poetry!
    Pat White

  2. Lisa Elemans says:

    I learned a new word as well. This is a fabulous work of words. Quite enjoyable to let ones imagination wander!

  3. mincs1 says:

    Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to comment, Lisa. I’m glad you like it 🙂

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