Ever think about the person riding alongst side you in an elevator? What kind of life does he live? Is he genuinely happy? What did he eat for dinner last night? There are so many factors to consider. You stand there. And he stands there. Each staring blankly at the hand going through the "numbered" motions above. Floor one: curiosity. You discreetly glance over at him, but hide your wandering eyes with the flick of a lid. He tilts his head, just enough to catch the calf peaking out of your loosely tied dress. His shoes are worn in, like the seat of an vintage 1959 pick up truck, & you meditate over the origins of these scruffs. Did he spend a summer at a cow ranch? How many miles of earth have these shoes seen? You feel the belt of your dress tighten, & can hear the swiftness of your breathe. Who is this person upping the tempo of your heartbeat? Floor two: forces of attraction. You teeter at the edge of contact, and feel the push and pull of gravitation. Like excited atoms, your orbital interactions repel and draw one another closer together. You shift to the left, as he leans to the right. You smile, as he grins. How can so much distance render such magnetism? Floor three, four, & five: your mind goes WILD. You want to ask this man the world, but cannot deliver the words out of your landlocked lips. Thoughts get stuck in the circus of your head, while runaways get caught behind a fence of white teeth. Curious drips of honeyed intrigue become cold, silver bullets. Why is it so troublesome to communicate with this person? Or are your bodies speaking truths of their own. Floor six: a denouement. Like all good stories in life, you know this ride will soon come to an end. Questions in W's, what, why, when, and where, wash to shore in the waters of your wavy head. Why of all the elevators in all the buildings in all the towns, does he walk into your elevate-or? And how did your worlds collide, for this brief agreeable moment, to share this charged encounter?
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