Note On The Door
When the wind is in the East, the door is slow to latch
My hat is still upon my head, my head is not attached
My head flew off across the street and landed by a car
My arms reached out as if to say, “Head tell me where you are!”
“I see you arms, I’m on the road , I’m leaving you, Behind.
I find you coarse and needy, while I am more refined.
I’m striking out , I’m moving on , it’s easier this way.
Don’t try to speak, you have no mouth, there’s nothing now to say.
If I return I’ll look you up and tell you what I’ve seen .
And you can take me for a walk to show me where you’ve been.”
It tipped it’s hat and rolled away
My hands waved their goodbye’s
The body felt a little sad
But had no eyes to cry.
When the wind is in the West I turn toward the door
It closes very quickly, I don’t latch it anymore.