i. Duplicit Stranger passes by on the sidewalk
and blinds cascade down.
They’re alluring, floral, dizzying
until he’s entered the house
without realizing. But the shades—
ii. Duplex You approach to knock, a gentle assertion: a door is meant to swing. I shuffle blinds and peek, at once startled by inquisitive eyes between and hands grasping two cups of tea. I grip the knob, despite the desperation staining my carpet. You peer as you enter and nod with unwarranted delight. As You begin to restore windows open, it becomes clear: You specialize in homemaking. Your touch is linen. All I can do is weep,
and stare as You breathe freshness into the stale paint, dance on the carpet until it bounces plush, and finally, heal the table—adorning with flora and food, those rapturous signs of life. You sigh, satisfied. The drink is still steaming, so You sit. I follow and You wait for me to sip, knowing it to be a confession. Tea to teeth, the heat jolts until it leaks down in an embrace and I settle in dissolved. You join, steeping in agreement with the moment, our palms warmed with rightness enjoyed. Then You rise,
selecting another chipped cup, pouring your tea and mine to fill its brim, and depart,
leaving the doorway expectant.
iii. Duet Door propped open, cup accompanying cup, table well-laden: Little tokens of furnishings, a space waiting to be cozied in again.
One-dimensional until the gentle patter of your dear footsteps Echo, harmonic with piano canticles, shifting static objects.
I want you to take a seat. I want you to breathe with me, Sip this drink with me, ruminate with me. I wonder, would you receive
An open-ended invitation, both to independ and interweave: Might you share a cup of lavender tea with me?