Behind those Doors

I walk all over College Hill these days, past the doors of houses I once visited, past people I knew and know, but do not stop to see. I wonder, should I just knock and say hello? These people don't know I am here, they I am invisible, they have no easy way to find me, no way at all. right now, unannounced, I am invisible. When I pass them, looking in at an open window or past a drawn curtain, I hope they are not looking out and thinking, who is that man, staring in. I think I may quite probably be staring in, in a state of unawareness because I am walking the dogs, and distracted, alone with my thoughts, I exist in a world of my own. I don't think I talk aloud much, yet. I do talk to the dogs, encouraging their good behavior and discouraging the bad. All those houses. All those people to talk to, to drink a glass of wine or a beer with. Can they all be averse to spontaneity, should I knock? Would they enjoy the hello or the interuption? One of these days I am going to give it a whirl, just pound on the door and see what happens. Weird Charlie! What a surprise to see you; what are you doing in Providence, anyway? Or, "Charlie, we've been watching you for weeks, wondering if you'd ever stop and say hello." Wouldn't that be a kick in the arse? More likely, I am in the limbo of the living who have moved, somewhere, but far from anyone's daily consciousness at all.