Each panic attack has her own DNA.
She has a different set of parents.
There are male and female panic attacks.
The female of the species is larger and
bites harder when sensing fear.
She believes in a God she calls “mind.”
“Soul” is the universe and “heart” a roof over her head.
Her life expectancy is short,
half of mine.
She lures me from my back yard
into her inner city apartment.
She speaks five languages,
none of which I understand
and a few I suspect are now extinct.
She motions to me to change her channel,
but I cannot find her remote
and there are no buttons on her TV.
I try unplugging it but she is standing on the chord.
She wants me to marry her
but I don’t have the funds.
She wants kids
but I’m impotent.
My impotence turns her on.
She is the world’s oldest virgin.
She only passes on her genes through immaculate conception.
Chris Pellizzari is a graduate of the University of Illinois at Urbana–Champaign. His short stories and poems have appeared or will soon appear in The Awakenings Review, BoomerLitMag, Good Works Review, COUNTERCLOCK, Amarillo Bay, The Literary Nest, Ink in Thirds, and Schuylkill Valley Journal.