This revolving door has opened to you without question, and allowed you to play freely. Swinging on the handles you gleefully laugh, and I admire your childlike discoveries, and provide safety for your play. I kept you close when you were dizzy with joy and could not discern if you were entering or exiting. This revolving door did as you expected and continued to revolve, continued to evolve to your needs, for your needs, rotating with each breath of change, rolling with the punches. Punched, kicked, slapped, face planted into me, you slide down my fingerprint streaked glass leaving your fingerprints for passing strangers to know you were there. You are out and in and out again, before I can replace the shattered pieces of mirror implanted into your face. You return with new scars and this revolving door excepts them back into rotation. Disease returns when the system is weakened. Steel bones, don’t make the flesh impenetrable and your penetration is deep. Steel bones may not be broken, but you are hot and they can melt. Steel bones have nothing to do with broken glass, but can keep the door rotating and push the shards of broken to the side so that you can step back in without injury. You deserve a 1,000th chance. There are unlimited turns through this revolving door, so you return to this revolving door. The yellow caution tape and “closed for repairs” sign is not a deterrence, is a welcome mat for you to wipe your feet on before entering again. Maybe one day you will step into the lobby and check in with security, sign your name in the guestbook, and take a tour of the building. Did you know it is still heated by a wood burning furnace? Will you ever venture into the greenhouse in the back that is fragrant with sage and roses? Is the 360 degree penthouse view ostentatious? There is no elevator, but the climb is worth the exertion, worth the increased heart rate, worth the feeling of accomplishment on each and every floor. This revolving door does not lock at midnight, come in at 12:01 sex smeared and glowing, tired and crying, selfish and needy, spiritual and enlightened, broken and hurtful, damaged and neglected, this is your safe space. Between in and out your decision is not your destination here. This revolving door, a passing thought, it doesn’t matter where it leads.
…for the art of it