Halfway Closed

The teeth wouldn't meet.

I knew it before I looked—

that particular resistance,

fabric bunched around the snag

like something trying not to be opened.

Four minutes on the front step.

The cold did what cold does.

I pulled up, I pulled down,

I worked the thing sideways

which never works.

I have missed other things this same way.

Not dramatically.

Not with an excuse worth keeping.

Just: a small mechanism failed,

and I took it as a sign,

or a permission,

and went back inside.

The jacket's still on the hook.

The appointment was a Tuesday.

There will be other Tuesdays,

I keep saying that,

which is the kind of thing you say

when you've stopped believing it.