In Which I Have A Tiny Panic Attack At Work

Alone here in a fishbowl, full of folk
Absorbed in work and play, ignoring me,
I suddenly can't shake or call a joke
The feeling that has made me want to flee:
Just weeks ago a jackass in a truck
Hit me on Deep Blue as I crossed a street.
Just days ago another tested luck -
The driver, texting, nearly made me meet
My newly-dead friend sooner than I'd planned:
Was head-on for me and swerved as I did
To miss. It seemed dead-certain that my grand
Time on this Earth was done. Did someone bid
Him look up? It's unknown. But now the sense
That something wants me dead, too, is intense.