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Knocking.

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There are fences
Near gardens
and around the back ends of two car garages
and all are easy to climb
when in madness
I disregard the sidewalk or the street and walk in a straight line

 

Where I land at your door
to knock and knock and knock
and sleep on the porch and knock again
in the morning.

 

And knock all afternoon and sleep again
and knock
and

 

Off in the madness again to climb fence after fence
crawl back into my bedroom window to dream
of knocking and knocking

 

and pounding even, in a fury
ringing the bell
and knocking and sleeping there exhausted

 

Then I wake and climb out the window again,
down sheets, tied end to end like the movies
across the yards again
over the fences

 

And I knock again and again
and knock harder
and yell a name
any name
and just yell “hey!?”
and feel confused and at a loss

 

Then empty and withered
I walk the sidewalks all the way back around,
climb up the sheets
get to sleep
and haunt myself with more knocking and knocking

 

And I never ever stop knocking,

 

 

 

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