She stands in the doorway
of his mind
blocking access
casually,
he can not wait;

not for psychology
to lock itself out,
psychologically;

He wants to find things
like the tooth paste
in her mouth,
goals maybe
sensum, hope
maybe some humility,
or match books
or destiny involved,
opening gates
of engagement
seeing frames that
come up
from peoples minds
streaming from the
paranormal den
doin' it, getting
in their face.

But he didn't,
cut her off
did he?
Not the way you wanted
not the way
a garbage disposal
grinds to wake you up
in the mornings
with responsibility
every minute
A destination,
A demand...

One blink
into the next,
a continuance,
every ache
a breakable cord,
tired but tethered
to her accordion heart.