the 22nd floor of a glass tower
just glass, marble
the air of tension & power
harsh, cold, curt intercom scratched voices
staccato syllables
false politeness with a spirit of fear & suspicion
a blind behind glass opens to a faceless face & mute reflections

at least the elevators sing
whistling a mating call as they pass each other
let the glass and marble mate
speedily the breath of up and down
as humans degrade each other to the baseline

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- See: personal

:: note :: ... written in an consulant waiting for a visa application ...