In the last few weeks, a strange number of doors at my place have broken. closet door, shower door, screen door, all off track or ajar with some new stubbornness to close. It would take a special effort to set them all back- a deliberate act. It's almost as if something shifted at the foundation. For now, they remain ajar.
When you knocked, I answered without thinking. Caught in some in-between state of dreaming and waking, I didn't have the wherewithal to ignore or hide or send you away. I answered in my truest state. Not my best, but my truest. Disheveled and barely coherent, some delirious truth serum of fatigue and detachment. I'm waking up now. And here you are and here I am and I waking up now and I am still listening.
