Oh hell
These revolving doors
One is never sure
Whether one’s entered
or gained the road
but you see the kid
has passed inside
unmindful of me
as easily as
kids do these things
(and that is as it should be)
I am the one doing
The minding
Of the luggage also
And the lugging
Although it happens sometimes
With my feet, bags and a trip
I stumble and
With my nose on the glass
I gawp after the kid
It is a funny thing
of time that waits
flying time scuppers
that retreat for rest
to be up and gone
so many doors are closed
that were open before
tiredness is all
that remains in the end
and between
shelter and escape
a revolving door
the culprit
doesn't know it
but when
he is nearing home
he sings
songs of devotion
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