A Graduation Poem

written for S Camp. June 2012

There’s nothing like a door to the future –

They’re sold by the pallet at Menard’s:

Steel core, hollow core, antiqued and painted;

the plain front and cross-buck; your classic fan light

Neo-Georgian; the smart timbered craftsmen

for the suburban sophisticate; the oval

frosted glass with French curliques

for the incurably romantic – they’re yours

to make every exit an entrance; this stage

set for imagination, a market theatre

of absurd choice, where doors, paint chips, hardware

and no-shadow light in a hundred designs

keep your back to the sliding door, the setting sun,

and the warmth of a summer, only now begun.

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