If We Are Doorways

If we are doorways, I am standing here
propping the screen open with my hip
ushering in the wind and the dust
my arms are crossed and my eyes crease
watching all the way down the block
watching until it gets dark and then gets light again
nodding to the passersby, looking them in the eye
saying good evening, good morning,
good afternoon, good night
it’s a quiet resistance
against my self-protective impulse
urging a solid thud slam
and bolt click shut
I will stand instead
in the doorway and pretend
it’s this - this is what I want:
to be on the threshold at dusk
the light of my house behind me
all the neighbors’ greenery
exhaling oxygen around me
I keep catching my breath