Little Room

I should have put

A window

On the far right

Wall

I should have put a window

But on the other side

Of the far right

Wall

Is another wall

That connects

To a building

Where they take

People in

And let them out

Days later

Looking one foot taller

But not any better

And people walking out

Wouldn’t wave to me

Because they’re wearing sunglasses

So they don’t have to see

That the person in the room

With a window

On the far right

Wall

Is just looking

For someone

To wave

To

I should have put a door

So I could walk outside

But if I walk outside

The air won’t be right

Because it’s been too hot

For the past twelve days

And the heat won’t work

When it hits my face

I’ll be wishing I was back

In the room with no door

So I won’t have to worry

About

Going outside

And if I had a window

That would be nice

But I’d be looking

Through a wall

At a wall

At people

Who wouldn’t wave

Who couldn’t see

Who don’t look

Any better

Than they did

Yesterday

I wish I had a high ceiling

For the room I’m in

So I could reach up my arms

And not touch

Anything

I should have lifted the ceiling

Or lowered the floor

Or used the kind of paint

That makes you think

You’re in a much, much,

Bigger room

I could have painted on a window

With a cool blue view

I could have painted a door

That would make me think
I could leave

Whenever I wanted

And then never leave

Because the part of me

That knows what a painting is

Would understand

That I’m here

For good

And the part that needs to feel good

The part that doesn’t understand

Anything beyond

What’s real and what’s paint

Would feel happy

And leave me

Alone

I should have asked

Someone

To come in with me

Sit with me

And touch the ceiling

With me

Think about a window

Think about a door

Think about a bed

That we could sleep in

When we need to sleep

If we ever

Need

To sleep

I’d stick a whole life

In this little room

But the room

Only has room

For part of a life

And the part I brought in

Is the part

That thinks too much

About

What’s not

In the room

I could write down

What’s missing

From the room

But there isn’t enough room

To write down

What’s not here

Everything is missing

Except for what’s not

And I’m what’s not

And nothing else

Special

I should feel special

But it’s hard to feel special

When special

Requires

So much

Room