Front Door/Concrete Steps

It is strange the things that come
Through front doors
And on porches
Or those concrete steps that suffice.

Suits with faithless smilles
Tell me that I could be saved
If only I believed.

Little girls dressed as witches
With their little friends
Ask for candy
Forgetting the origins of the tradition.

You, with your unsure posture
Passive eyes
Your nervous mumbling.

Somewhere you will be lost
It may very well be here
In this Muddy Town
With these Muddy People.

I see in you something bigger
Something that hides behind Muddy Eyes
Something beneath overgrown hair.

But I learned before I had to
Never to spend time searching.
I prefer my projection of you
Prefer my alternate reality
To the disappointment
Of the real one.

It is why I welcome you to my doorstep
With no intention
To invite you in.