All that matters is here

The door is open
I know where it leads
but hold back from walking through,
taking that step out
into a world that gleams
beyond the windows, green

grass and red roses
and laughter.

I don't want to leave today.

Yesterday I might have
in a fit, in a fit
of pique or pain
or downright rage,
the kind that makes me scratch

my nails on plastered walls

or slam doors so cracks appear
in the woodwork. Today
I want to wallow

to wade and not swallow
the self pity that's wrapped
itself about my body, to bathe

and burst hot bubbles
and sup champagne
or cognac
and smoke fat cigars

and watch the cat
sleep.