“Twelve days,” you said to me once,

Speaking of a trip you were taking home.

“That’s how long I’ll be gone.

Can you wait that long for me?”

Twelve days, ten weeks,

A year or three if you were serious

About your more exotic adventures—

My dear, I would wait for you

Like I’m waiting now:

Standing inside this place we call home,

Hands out in front of me, bracing myself

On the cool front door.

A modern adaption of

The Allegory of the Cave,

Although instead of stone walls and shadows,

My world is neatly contained

In the confines of the wide angle lens

Of a door viewer, my

Stockinged feet standing on tiptoe

As I watch with growing excitement,

Waiting for the moment

When your car manifests

Before my eager left eye.