We are Here

Now open the door.
I can't.
You can.
And the band plays ooomp pa pa, oooomp pa ping!
And the moocow goes, 'groooooaaaan.'
And the sleeveless monkey jumps from tree to tree threading monkey nails through the bark and below to where the wood is softer, and yellow.
Open the door.
"Perhaps the hinges are busted, or perhaps the opening door is not what you're after?" Says the mealy crow, swooping overhead as if he gave a care.
Somewhere the sky is soft and blue, like the time we all fell out of the Caribbean, and up and into the air.
"Yes!" Declares the sullen, black moocow, "Vieques it will be."