My view
here is blocked
by the steel
frame doors
that hold the
transparent glass
that is too
often cleaned
of the life
of finger
prints and noses.
As I run,
escaping this
place of piety,
I often hit
these glassed
and perfect
doors head on.
Like a bird
or squirrel
or something.
And stunned
and fallen
and looking
up I am
reminded that
my escape
is a mirage
and the hope
and possibility
of freedom
only comes
if I approach
this door as a
rhinoceros instead
of a robin. Or
if someone
will open it
for me.