Looking at the cracked plastic circle Illuminated
I wait for the large box to fall from the sky.
The logic in this circle perpetrated
With a finger’s second push I deny
That the button’s already been pushed
By the other individual waiting
To step inside and be wooshed
In the act of elevating.
I look at him and crack a smile,
then stare at the numbers descending
He’d been doing it for a while
And I find interest in pretending
I know which doors to step toward.
A ding breaks my trance to guide me
moving as a two-person horde,
A blockade with him beside me,
We move to the silvery doors.
Ready to courteously back away
If a crowd of people outpours
From the mystical box of today.
Horizontally retracting doors hold the notion,
Differing from some sliding glass doors that I’ve known,
With a stickless, StarTrek, inviting motion
We’re ushered inside to be shown
More of ourselves on reflective distorting surfaces.
The brushed metal imagery will help us keep quiet
Lest we find consorting purposes
To interrupt this silencing riot.
We both file in, him first and then me
He decides to go in and secure deep
I egg on conversation and choose to be
The button pusher and pick the first “beep.”
“Floor?” I say to which he responds nonverbally
By extending his hand and retracting it then
In a choice to avoid this hyperbole.
But I push the button again.