What to Do WIth Your Hands - Feb 20 2024

 

What to Do With Your Hands

Feb 20 2024

Which conveniently

in the up elevator

are nicely occupied

with shopping bags, handbags

satchels

and attachés.

But where to put our eyes?

Scanning the cramped metal box

for somewhere safe,

and if caught

nodding brusquely

and darting away.

Mine are trained on the numbers

above the sliding doors,

lighting up sequentially

as our random collective ascends.

Like a countdown clock

but at a crawl.

No one mentions the weather.

The big game.

How traffic's crazy these days.

None of the innocuous things you say

to fill the awkward silences.

No polite exchange

to give our time passing together

a touch of warmth.

So you can catch an eye

without looking away.

Crack a smile.

Or even let a laugh slip out,

like the bubbly lady

from somewhere in back

clutching that big ugly purse.

Who says small talk

is a waste.

Because the elevator

with strangers standing stiffly

and grating on each other

   —   like high fashion mannequins,

with sharp elbows

and cheekbones that cut   —

could use some lubrication.

A sense of community

in this contentious age

of mutual suspicion

and existential dread.

No politics, no sex.

Just a low pressure system

and the chance of rain.

A collective lament

for the home team.