.
The Last Chapter is The Longest
Every door opened and walked through recalls
all other doors —that first glimpse of the next room
its bric-a-brac reflecting what you knew and
how old you were and
what style shirt hung over a chair and
which program was on TV and
who else lay on the couch the night you met her and
when your first kiss led to which ceremony and
what gifts from then survived so many years and
why another door shut behind you that last time together and
how empty rooms seemed then without her to share those memories
of all the doors you opened together and
what color you decided to paint those walls after she had gone and
which car you drove to drop off the child at her place and
when you watched her door close and
how much time it took to find another door and
knock expectantly like you had before
.
by Michael Chrisman
from Little Stories, New Poems by Michael Chrisman