When it’s hard to get out the door in the morning
I sometimes tell myself the door is an open field
with birds doing their birdy things in it
beside a bubbling brook I can always follow
to a crystal-clear pool where the trout I imagine
communing with can always show me the right
way to wait for what I want.
It’s either that or I see the door as merely something
I can shut, lock and walk through and that’s that.
To be honest, I’m not sure I could do that anyway.
With the power of the mind, I trained myself
to walk through walls and fly over the trees not
unlike the way a ghost might when it gets sick of halls,
and there was even a time I thought I
made the television move back and forth by simply
imagining myself small and moving through it.
In my dreams people and animals speak in hyperbole,
and in this one, one is saying the eyes can be like doors
you walk through on your way to heaven. But I’m
thinking that’s hyperbole for me wanting someone to
to love me who hasn’t yet.