RED

i traced the OPEN sign
through the shop window
leaving my finger-print smudge 
on the glass like the tracks 
of a sliding creature. there's a
little market a block from my house
that never turns off their OPEN
sign no matter the hours-- store
dimly lit i come to peer inside--
to wonder what the OPEN sign
might mean there--it's halo-ing red
refracting through the glass--
the whine of its glow. it makes 
me consider hanging an OPEN sign
in the window of my home-- if maybe 
leaving it there would be some 
kind of good omen-- a promise
to be alive & blaring. i hang 
an OPEN sign around my neck 
& try to go to sleep 
with it's buzzing-- some sort
of language insect. toss &
turn with the OPEN sign--
a second OPEN sign 
in the window & another one
still in the refrigerator.
people come up to the windows 
of my home-- not neighbors--
strolling people. They come
to stare inside my house
just like i go to stare
in that shop window & 
name the candy bars i can 
see on the counter: Twix,
Reeses, Crunch-- they 
take inventory of
books & sweaters draped
on the back of chairs-- they 
lay claim to objects they would
take if the door would ever
actually open, all the while
from my bed i roll over
& over again with the sign 
around my neck. i imagine just
me standing where that store is--
the building leveled & 
the wandering night-people
coming to peer into me.
what kind of items would
they see in me? i need more
OPEN signs. i think they need
to be everywhere. i imagine
a world with OPEN signs handing 
from telephone wires-- birds
with OPEN signs hanging from
their nests-- me opening
my mouth to show a passerby
the OPEN sign glimmering
all the way at the back 
of my throat. i want 
to talk with it in my mouth
& say something profound
but i have nothing. i go back
to the shop window &
press my nose to the glass
with the OPEN sign scowls 
at my persistence. i thank
the OPEN sign for telling 
us so much.