The Creep

The Creep

Everywhere I go I find it.
I find it even when I’m not seeking it.
The creep. It’s there.
It’s even in my underwear.
My history professor said so,
before he taught me to question
everything I think I know.

It’s in unrelated books.
It’s in every movie that I look.
It’s in the music that I hear.
It’s in that look of fear.
It’s all the focus of the news.
It’s snuck into a dream or two.

I’m even certain it’s in my beer.
It can bring me to tears.
To understand it can take years.
It sneaks into conversations.
It confuses all my relations.

It rose up inside a prayer.
Don’t ask me how it got in there
for I know not from where
just that I found out that I care.
Now it’s even in my poems,
when I’d much rather go home,
but I just can’t look away,
from the politics today.

It’s unity or division in this world we all envision.
The creep’ll teach you a thing or two,
like endless puzzle pieces reconnecting,
but in the end it’s all really up to you
if the world keeps turning in new directions.

D.L. Lang
D.L. Lang
D.L. Lang of Vallejo, CA is the author of nine poetry collections, including 2016's Poet Loiterer which Kirkus Reviews described as containing "Free-spirited ideals couched in fairly infectious rhymes." She enjoys performing her poems at open mics and entering them in county fairs.