mmmcdlxxxvi

Erstwhile

Someone was at
the door, banging.
It didn’t even start
with a knock knock
knock. Sitting quietly
on the couch, it sounded
to us like the door was a goner.

The banging never stopped.
We never even called the
police. What else happened?
A table exploded. A drunken,
bloodied glass of water was
flung toward a voodoo doll
and failed to miss. That was
amazing. The cops were called
then; oh, the irony, and the mathematics.

The BANG-BANG-BANG-BANGING
certainly did not stop. It would

never end. We grew more and more
uncomfortable on the plush sofa.
Did the door survive; remain in
tact? Or did it finally come unhinged?
Oh, can you not just tell me when the banging will ever end?