In Miami I took the elevator 7 times a day
But the first few days I had nothing to say
Finally I got less timid and launched on the ground floor,"Hi, the Japanese are closing
their reactors, what will they do now with their uranium?
to a man with a small dog on leash
"Have a nice day!" he bowled!
I concluded international news must be avoided, so for the next
person, on the 8th floor, I made it more personal:
"Do you know, M'am, yesterday I was painting a house
and by accident I kicked over a bucket of paint and it dripped over
the facade like a Jackson Pollack."
"Enjoy your Easter." she pinged at the bing of the opening doors.
On another occasion, coming down from the penthouse, the elevator stopped on the l7th floor.
A young boy holding a red lollypop walked in and I said, looking up
at a hidden camera: "Hey, we're being filmed, do y'a know?
Security here knows everything we are doing. And in Florida you can get strip searched for just not wearing your seat belt!"
"I don't drive. Have a great day!" said the boy,skipping out with a red smile as soon as the doors opened.
After a week the elevator talk was wearing my nerves thin
Only with effort I held up my chin
expecting to hear the dropping of a pin.
Having just read Darwin and Hegel I wanted to impart with
these fleeting strangers, just something beyond,
"Have a great day!"
Finally I decided the only way to breach the gap of social order and natural selection
was to knit, stitch and loop in the elevator.
Holding balls of wool and oversized needles
able to make any witch weary
I knitted breathing deeply going down or up the dark shaft and
-aside from some strange looks from Miami muscle men-
I was showered with complements and smiles
My grin took the countenance of a Swiss Cheese.
And the elevator talk flowed like a good French wine.
PS: In the case of a stuck elevator it appears that Elevator Talk is elevated to another principle.