Antebellum Vellum

I've yet to meet
my newest neighbor
but I heard him
for the first time last night
crying through the door
of his parents' railroad apartment
as I exited our building.

It hit me then
as hard as when She leaves:

There are doors I'd rather be behind
and tombs I'd rather leave behind
and anything less
than knowing the joy
of a pink and screaming baby
would be a wasted life.

I'll risk it.

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