4 Knocks Too Many

Knock, knock, knock, knock.
Who could it be?
A pizza man with a pubescent complexion,
Trying to make a decent living with the little that he has.
He shuffles in place, wading through a tide of hope and uncertainty.
"I'll be right there".

Knock, knock, knock, knock.
Who could it be?
My mother coming to visit,
Bearing gifts of love and comfort,
Along with tales of family problems and words of wisdom.
"Just a minute."

Knock, knock, knock, knock.
Who could it be?
My best friend donning his Perry Ellis leather jacket,
Armed with a little, black book of girls,
Who give themselves up to him like a calf to the udders of a cow.
"Let me get my coat."

Bang, bang, bang, bang!

This summons that rivals that of a special ops unit descending over the head of an unsuspecting fugitive,
With howls that would swallow whole the shrieks of a harpy,
Leaving it deaf and defenseless.
I already know who this is,
For I've let her in three times before,
As far as I'm concerned,
I'm not home.