In Every Story There Comes a Point When You Can See No Further

It’s just through that door—
On the other side I can make the moon
orange, I can miss my ma, hey
gimme a quarter, I wanna call ma.
I can say to no one or to everyone or someone
special for an hour after waking
there is nothing I want. That blue
ladder leaned against the wall out there
is a shortcut to summer.
But it’s hard to decipher
this close to dark, it’s hard to paint
a dim painting.
Emotions and forms.