Your Door

My friend Barbara's house was cream with blue trim and PINK doors.  That's the kind of lady she was.

I am walking down the street 

between your house

and mine towards the bay.

I am trying to comprehend

the idea--as if 

anyone could--

that suddenly your address

has changed to 

Nowhere on Earth.  I notice

the sky.  After the storm, it is

blue and yellow and yes,

undeniably pink--

pink, pink all over, as if

the heavens have 

painted your new door

just for you,

and it's as big

as your benevolent and entirely

unconventional heart.