The Doorman


Born of the light

of a faraway star.

Swaddled and comforted

in a mother’s arms.

Kindness came and went

as time moved forward.

Fate is a fickle thing,

one moment, we are who we are,

then next, we’re someone else;

a vessel discarded in the yard.


New model, new ideas get rewarded.

Can’t cancel my way in.

I’m betting on the doorman.

The doors are closed,

the virus wearing thin.

You can see it in the poor man,

with his clothes hanging off his body,

like a skeleton

draped in designer threads.

A whole bunch of us are as good as dead.

Don’t tell anyone I said.


Came into this world

with a light in my eyes.

The light grew dim;

you can’t feed a fire with lies.

I ask myself

if it’s worth going on?

Smile at the man at the door

as I walk on by.

Turns out I’m gonna live,

and tonight’s the night.

I’m gonna see for myself,

just how far we are gone.



HG – 2020

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