The Fourth Door

Whilst I yet through childhood go
I watched a television show
A generational delight
Of the name “The Price is Right”

If you guessed correctly, then
You got to guess, and guess again —
If you extra accurate were
You got to choose which you’d prefer

Of three huge doors, at very last
There arrayed before you be
Behind which many treasures massed
“Door A,” “Door B,” “Door C”

Protected by one shielding door
Some gag prize waits to disappoint
The other two hide, one, much more
And one a little. Asked to point

Toward the one which you request
You sweat, you squirm, you think it through
And strain to do your very best
So kismut will be good to you…

Perhaps presented with a choice
To which its offerers now give
Remarkably similar voice
Which happens, sometimes, as we live

My reflex action, first response,
Instinctive move has always been
To pause an habitual nonce
Explore the space those doors between

It has been my experience —
To offer a redeeming thought
In this strange practice’s defence —
That by such pause is often brought

The vision of another door
Betwixt those I’m presented by
Two others, sometimes –sometimes more
Unseen by a too-focused eye

Distracted by the lights and bells
Of the official choices which
To you th’announcer hearty tells
None which are really what you wish

And which the happy audience
Immersed in the vicarious
Heady, thrilling experience
Acquiring so much lustrous

And lauded wealth don’t know:
Unless you can pay half in tax
Never home with you will go
Those are the real life facts

The fourth door is the one I choose
Which human service lies behind
Nor rusty objects I may lose:
I make the choice of — being kind


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