I stood there pulling the brass handle

I stood there pulling the brass handle

until my shoulder ached, a real idiot,

while the sign said PUSH in block letters

right at eye level. I even left a smudge

from my forehead on the glass, leaning in

to see if anyone was watching me fail.

It’s like that time in the park, three years

back, when you sat so quiet on the bench.

I thought you were being deep, or cold,

or maybe just bored of my nervous talk.

But you were just waiting. You were open.

You were a door that didn't need a key,

and I was out here yanking on the frame

until the hinges screamed. I get it now.

The light came on, but the room is empty

and the shop closed twenty minutes ago.