Not Poetry Material

I woke up this morning,

and I’m going to do by best to describe this, but

I looked at the light encasing the bedroom door,
and thought of absolutely nothing
except for the fact that I was looking at it,

just sort of spaced out on that frame of light,
and then it occurred to me,

my wife had gotten out of bed,
had turned on the light in the hallway,
I could hear her in the bathroom, turning on the shower,

and I probably shouldn’t worry about dying unexpectedly,
this frame of light is not an out of body experience,
it’s probably not poetry material,

but you’ve got to make use of what life shows you,

and permit me just one more self-help moment, but

when it shows you a door encased by light,
well then I guess you better figure out
if it’s a frame of light
or yourself that you’re going to walk through.