Reset.
Open. Close.
Better yet, hang it on the door.
I’ll wait until no one is around,
So I can freely stick my head out,
Grab between my fingers, hold tight,
Take command, break night;
And then, slowly, unbutton, unzip, untie,
Uninhibited simulations of what it holds
To get a glimpse of what could come to be.
On. Off.
Or perhaps, a fixed blank stare; that,
Leaves me unable to read
What your eyes now eagerly try to disclose.
I can’t understand them for mine remain
Distant in that blank stare you first gave
When you shook my hands, and politely tried to
Fake delight, when it actually resided elsewhere.
In. Out.
Or right in between. Stuck in the middle.
Too afraid to move
Up or down;
a definite position is terrifying to embrace.
Living halfway, just as unbearable.
What to do, I ask myself, over burnt toast
and an emptying glass of hope.
Wait, replies the draft that escapes from under the door.
Same door that hung uninhibited simulations
Of what could come to be, but hasn’t yet come to pass.
Reset. Wait… Enjoy.
By Ginel Salvador
