Hard Stop

I was detained, by a knock at the door
On my way, to the bathroom, to
Shower, and I considered then, dressed
Only in the towel I would pat dry with,
The answering of that call at my door,
The answering of that buzz, to greet
Said person who stood at my doormat.
It’s hard sometimes, to make decisions,
Weighing options, projecting outcomes,
Better sometimes, to make the jump,
And dive right in, before checking the
Temperature of the water, and if
Dangerous rocks lie in wait, silently,
Just under the surface of a bubbling,
Quiet stream, and so I wait, for
Another press, and at that buzz I fling
The door wide, and there you stand,
Paperwork in hand, “Hi, my name is Jerry,”
You say, nervously shifting from foot
To foot, eyes darting left to right to left,
“And I’m a registered sex offender,”
Which is when I pop my hands
On my hips, to blurt out a condescending,
“Oh, really,” but my towel loosens,
Letting slip the dog of war, “I need
You to sign this,” sticking a petition
In my face, your eyes bright, and gleaming;
That was years ago, and you’ve seen
My dog so many times since then.