Thursday, April 25, 2013

Open The Door

     Open the door; it’s cold out here and Dad’s drinking beer!
Open the door and let the flightless bird in! Open the door and let yourself back in; the girl you evicted for having a broken heart! Open the door to your prison full of ghosts; let them mingle in your new world order. Invite them to a sleepover. Make quaint little party pastries and sing a Catholic prayer together. Open the door to every yesterday and run inside and play awhile; taste some blood. Bathe in hot salty tears. Step barefoot on broken beer glass and feel the sting of life. Let first love stain your favorite dress. Let the furniture fly. Straddle the drunk hubby; make him a baby to rock him to sleep. Dance around the maple tree again. Let your hair get tossed in the wind in a world without extra hold spray. Let your cakeup smear from the sweat of freedom’s run. Climb the vacant 
screen of the old drive-in and blow the dust from love’s altar. Climb back into your father’s lap and offer soft embrace while he slumps, slurps, drools and belches beer. Sing him a lullaby. Love him to death. Open the door; surely you see it. Open the door; you 
can borrow my key. Open the door, lest time and tears turn to rust and seal it at last like a cement tomb. Open the door, my name is Son.

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