Doors Closing

[Sir_Nigel]

There are five of us, all strangers, imprisoned by the doors

We’re huddled in a poky space to rise up thirteen floors

 

The silence is oppressive but no-one dares to talk

The awkwardness still preferable to a gruelling upstairs walk

 

We’re very nearly nose to nose, our personal space defiled

But why this sudden restlessness - like a hyperactive child?

 

They shuffle for no reason, they twiddle, twitch and cough

Counting down approaching floors where they’ll gratefully get off

 

No one meets the other’s eye they stare at wall or floor

Just yearning for the liberty of that swiftly swishing door

 

I’m quite alone being still as stone – remaining cool and calm

But will my immobility cause panic and alarm?

 

They seem wary of this static man – unmoving, blank and chilling.

Do they fear the violent kidnapping? the torturing? the killing?

 

Is that what you expect me to do?

Should I fiddle and fidget like you?

 

They mess about with ties and bags or cell phones if they’ve got ‘em

Whilst a woman wonders what she’d do if someone felt her bottom.

 

She bravely risks embarrassment and the fear of sexual harassment

But the guys just stand there playing dumb and no-one cares about her bum

 

I wonder why they have to sigh to fill the deafening stillness

Or sniffle unconvincingly, feigning minor illness

 

Or rock about upon their toes like an old time Mr Plod

Or try a ho-hum sort of grin to show that they’re not Odd

 

Why can’t you be

a rock like me

- an old cigar store Cherokee.

Or better still speak up and say: ‘Isn’t it fun being squashed this way?’

[olliefrancis]

Brilliant.

 

I love the normality of the coughs and twitches. 'feigning minor illness'. Wonderful observational humour.