Your literate “C’mon, chooses” to confront,
while my mundane choice will affront.
And likely never the twain, boop bop boop.
Given an option of which fantastic world of your
readerly acquaintance I may choose to visit,
what ornate door’s hardware I might
opt to fondle, twist, push and swing
(quite a different fantasy milieu, eh?),
inevitably I choose…None of the Above.
I never wished to participate in your flights
of fancy, no, not even your Halloween dress-ups,
because there is too much imagination inhabiting
lone and often (by definition) lonely me already.
It’s populace visit me more often than is healthy
for a grown man, despite our long walks together.
And…shhh, don’t tell…some of us
have slept together for a long time, too.
They’re why I keep a notebook next to my bed,
ready to transcribe their whispered dreams,
the pillow talk that disturbs my dreamless near-sleep.
And to jot down the license number of the poetic truck
that ran over me on its way here. The place with
the not-so-ornate door you just chose to be intimate with.
Prompted by my friend, the super-supportive and inspiring poet Kellie Elmore, for her January 25th Free Write Friday.