Once I left the front door wide open all day,
And nothing was stolen.
What is it with me and leaving things ajar?
Especially jars, and Zip Lock bags, and Tupperware containers,
That leave a drippy mess coagulating on the refrigerator door.
Cabinet doors, which someone inevitably slams.
The trunk to my car, which insistently beeps at me.
My closet door is always opened too,
Because the wheels are broken
And I just don’t have the urge to fix it.
It gapes wide at night threatening to release the monsters.
And my purse which I usually refuse to carry
Which is really a backpack
That has outer compartments,
Which I forget to zip,
So the contents spill all over the floor.
Yet I never untie my shoes,
Preferring to slip them on
Despite the fact that it ruins the heels.
Is it evidence of an open heart?
Maybe it’s about being
Just annoying enough to prove to myself
That you are still standing here
Because you actually love me.
© M. G. Iannucci 2016
Photo: Entrance to the community gardens at Edgerton Park New Haven, CT.
For my Mom, who put up with me leaving the tops off jars for too many years to count. Love you.