Post office boxes. Hotel rooms. Tattoo shops. Hallways.
Where I was and where I’m going leave me where I am. Between.
Elevators. Construction sites. Emergency rooms. Tunnels.
There are sounds in the hall I have yet to recognize, name.
Airports. Trains. Sleep. Loss of virginity.
Lack of distinction causes panic, being in between.
Waiting rooms. Envelopes. Bridges. Car rides.
We don’t look into the face of death. We don’t contemplate it.
Break ups. Blackouts. Pregnancy. Doorways.
We see it as an ending, a blunt severing. Not the surface of a lake.
Inspiration. Divine intervention. Nervous breakdown.