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 did not call the authorities
at first.  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?