No Help for That | Jackie Clark

from One With Others

For me

it has always been a series of doors:

if one is opened precipitously a figure is caught bolting from bed

if another, a small table, a list of demands on school paper

if another, a child on the linoleum, saying she wants a white doll

a woman sitting on a bed, holding a folded flag

a shelf of trophies behind her head

an ironing board, bottle of bourbon on the end

sewing machine on a porch

To walk down the road without fear

To sit in a booth and order a sweet soft drink

To work at the front desk

To be referred to as Gentleman

To swim in the pool

To sit in the front row and watch Run Wild, Run Free [next week: Death of a Gunfighter]

To make your way to the end of the day with both eyes in your head

Nothing is not integral

You want to illumine what you see

Fear reflected off an upturned face

Those walnuts turning black in the grass

It is a relatively stable world

Gentle Reader

But beyond that door

It defies description

 

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