It Was Evening

It was evening
when I walked through the door
marked "2."

Shutting behind me, the door whispered,
"You shall have no other..."

I shrugged off my coat,
dropped my bags,
collapsed onto the bed,
into the darkness.

When I awakened all around me was
green and light
and being--
apple trees and
bicycles and
music.

I walked further in and
the cyclist fell and the
bees collapsed
but the bright ooze
of blood and the absence
of polination were discordant pieces of
greater harmony.

And the open spaces
whispered, "There is nothing
but what is."

And it was enough.