I who am opening
doors
for old women
in embroidered hats
buttered hearts
like kernels of
corn
buckets to paint
lines on the
asphalt
sesame
with three magic
words
would have you know I
waited in the lobby
by the potted
spider plant
salt in my palm
to rub in
the wound
eye on the
road
so little traveled
whispering spells
to make a way
for you
© 2010 andrew kooman
