Doors

A place begins like any other...

An office plaza--a maze of ordinary cubicles--

a hospital, a simply put floor with doors

and wings, lettered wings and numbered

floors and the rooms to the pine boxes

lettered and numbered.

Our bracelets now barcodes and new

millennium coded--always forget what

those are called...not RFID.

Lucky I have small hands and I can sneakily

 allude to a dream I've just awakened from

with a golf pencil during quiet time--was I

Anastasia? Why do they call it anaesthesia?


Was I Lewis Carroll? Why am I a fellow

Sufferer of tunnel vision migraines on

Lithium? Why would he make his heroine

 A young girl if he hadn't felt female?

I've seen things I can't make new as a

Woman named Stevi Rae Alsdorf

But I love now like I never could.

I have the makings of a real life now,

Yet I still crave real adventure.

A man called Thomas Gray, like the poet,

Who looked like Morgan Freeman told me

at my favorite Montrose coffee haunt that I

need a traveling companion--

LINDA!


Or Alex...if he could ever leave. I trust Linda

 with my life though. She'll make sure I

don't pull a classic me; get interested in

someone else's cigarette,

walk away from my purse,

get lost away from the rest of the group and

 the ordinary office turned plaza into water

park turns into a porthole to other worlds--

a black girl strayed as well and I realize I'll never check my phone.

Somehow it was in there anyway.