Knock knock, outside
your window now.
Open your eyes, open the blinds,
knock knock. Is that your headache pounding out? Knock knock,
the cat pats, glaring down, a siren screaming loud,
a broken muffler rattles by, a wife yells, a dog barks at the clouds,
while a door slams down the hall.
Knock knock, it’s getting brighter now,
the day is happening, knock knock,
your pillow stiffening and blankets burning sweaty now,
knock knock, the fan spins, cars swish past, the world is whispering.
It’s way too bright outside. Too many snoozes now.
Your alarm is stuck in your head. It isn’t Saturday.
You’re looking down at the sky above. The clouds are winking
in the current. A face stares back you barely recognize:
clean chin, wild hair, scars yet to be drawn, memories
nothing but a distant dream. This kid is skinny
enough to be starving. His shorts drip wet but shoulders
shine with ruddy glow. Warm in the blanket of summer,
he leans over the lake, clenches fists, and leans back.
Not yet ready to plunge. A sparrow circles above.
He takes a breath, a step, and stops.
Knock knock, a tap on his shoulder, looks back
at John’s toothy grin, one quick shove.