The red door memoriam

Just a small piece I wrote one evening.

        Scent is a powerful memory trigger

        There’s no doubt about that
        
        Red Door, elevated above all other
        
        She walks past, and my mind reverses
        
        To an office building in the nineties
        
        A carefree time, a moneyed time
        
        She wanted to be my counsellor
        
        But who counsels the counsellors?
        
        The ancestry reeked of Old Europe
        
        One who could launch ships with a glance
        
        So spake the legend, writ in water
        
        In the end, we never even got on a boat
        
        Yet we were a grand pair
        
        Neither of us right or solid in the head
        
        We talk, we talk, we talk, husky breathing
        
        Two damaged souls groping for solace
        
        Scream and rage, immature anger, Asperger’s stricken
        
        But I wander close and there’s the Red Door
        
        Oh, how I want to be invited in
        
        Friends with benefits, pre-meme, pre-trope
        
        One evening I found a way
        
        Not a well-travelled road, not even a path to follow
        
        Trough and crest, peak and valley
        
        That’s how that road was trodden
        
        The highest high you are to me
        
        But I don’t want to think about the lowest low
        
        I made vows and compacts, half-spoken promises
        
        Still that Red Door was closed
        
        Even if I had unlocked it
        
        It could never last, not even in semi-permanence
        
        Doom, fate, karma, name it at will
        
        It fled over the horizon, and the Red Door slammed shut