Closing Doors
by A Kelty

I know I should be up.   The sun has already lost its crispness. The birds are up and have been for an hour but my coffee in bed tastes sweet even with the guilt.

Carnival starts today and the city will pulse with bands and parades. The men readied floats through the night. They decorated flatbed trucks that come in from the villages. Each village will have its float.  The young people will get to ride on the floats and throw gifts to the crowd, maybe to me if I get out of bed.

A door slams.  An email comes in and it is terse and lifeless, much like that slamming door, much like our friendship.  I read and file for later thought.

What to do when love goes bad, or just goes. There is no anger, no pain, no recrimination, no passion.
We are numb, signaling like lost ships with broken semaphores on a wire stretched thin.
I hesitate to show feeling, she acts as If she has none. She reminisces about when I would wait for her while she shopped. I reminisce about the days when she did not shop.
Are we too old and worn out, bored and lazy, too comfortable to get up off the couch, too content with a little bit. Are we tired?

A door slams again and the new tenant who thinks that he lives alone is moving about in his apartment.  The man then goes out with a slam of his door. The sign says close it gently, cuidado, take care with doors.

Although it is carnival day and we still must be quiet. I will close this door gently.

Text A Kelty  © 2013