A Twenty Minutes Poem.
You opened the door that one time
and my goodness, they have never stopped arriving
from that time to now.
They don’t even knock
since that moment
when with the best of intentions
and hoping against hope for a different result
you opened the door.
Instead you got all of them
sitting at the kitchen table
fingering the mugs in the cabinet
tearing recipes out of your magazines
and everywhere you turn
there they are
Taking up the space in your head
until there’s nothing left for you to do
but hope they’ll get out
because try as you might
they don’t take your hints
but most likely
you’ll have to buy a new house
and keep the address a secret and
don’t open the door.