tic toc hollar

Last night I suddenly awoke at 3 am. i swear someone sat on the edge of the bed - i saw an indentation but no form; was it Ballard, the ghost my sons say they felt in the upstairs room they shared? Oddly for me, i could not doze off easily and read - not a good choice of books, Alice Munroe's new book of short stories, the first of which i began last night was about a man who murdered his three children. OMG. So i tossed and worried about my children and about every one i knew was sick and maybe dying. There is no doubt that I am suffering from a lack of human interaction, cabin fever. My friends think this will prompt poems. I differ, cabin fever is more conducive to murder.