There is a certain luxury to being afraid: To have the privilege of fear. To let that metallic twang Shiver through your bones Like a National guitar Resonating with the Vibration of self protection. Flights of fancy Fight for Survival Butting airy heads Against stark reality: Fear doesn't allow For such unnecessary Battles - It is too busy being Afraid for all That Jazz. Her blonde hair Hangs sleekly Dusting sharp Collarbone Rolling past Expensive breasts. She pays for Protection Against Rough sleepers. Day dreamers Night walkers Straight talkers Powder sniffers Potion smokers Protection from All of those Who do not live In her Marina Wonderland. She might allow Herself a small Shiver When a tan skinned Boy jogs past her window Running. She calls her attack dog Ex cop And says: "It is suspicious, That is all. He is running That is all What is he running Away from?" But the boy is gone: He was running Back to me Away from the Violence Of his father The expectations Of society And towards The ability To make a Better play At third, Heart health. Aerobic fitness ...and away From women Who stand In windows Wondering Why he is Running. Do not run With my shopping, I counsel him. Do not run back Home No matter if Your heart is skipping Your bones Feel like jumping No matter if You feel alive Because I Want you Alive. Always. The luxury Of fear Rejected. Who can live Thata way, Spontaneity Suspended? No, it is bad Knowledge Like cigarettes And Vodka And Orange A bauble For the rich And the perpetually Privileged By skin Or birth Or something Not earnt Yet provided. Every night I lock my door Luxuriously Feeling able To protect Us from Things Outside Less Stable. Head shaved. Fingers crossed. Yes, windows Closed! Doors Locked.