You told me about the door handle.

Ten meters away.

You said: I think I can move it.

You said: I did.

You said: it turned.

You said: the door opened.

I did not say impossible,

a trick of the light,

the drinks, the night.

I said: tell me more.

You said: the room was ordinary.

You said: the handle was brass.

You said: the door was wood.

You said: the girl was there.

You said: she saw it too.

I did not ask what she thought.

I asked what she did.

You said: she smiled.

You said: she knew.

You said: she stayed.

The handle turned.

The door opened.

The girl smiled.

She was there.

I was not there.

I will not be there.

I believe you.