this strange lonesome 40th summer

a
door
is
strictly
a
human
thing

a
way
to
close
out
the
world

people
talk
about
the
metaphorical
door
opening
to
bright
new
futures

but
to
me
a
door
is
a
sad
rectangle

a
rejection
of
the
world

tonight
i
drive
the
streets
alone
&
notice
all
the
closed
doors

one
after
the
other
in
this
strange
lonesome
40th
summer
of
mine

i
want
to
park
along
the
curbside

knock
upon
all
of
the
closed
doors

see
the
white
or
yellow
porch
lights
come
on

the
curtains
swing

the
blinds
turn

the
brightness
from
w/in
throw
itself
across
the
dark
ground

across
the
tips
of
my
shoes

but
i
keep
driving

until
i
get
to
my
own
place
&
then
i
do
the
same

close
this
door

this
strictly
human
thing

this
rectangular
rejection
of
the
world