a moment

the tenth floor of the library is quiet;
i am the only person in sight.

the elevator i have been waiting for arrives,
empty.

i step in, the doors close,
and i watch the floor number
go down to nine.

the doors open
and a man comes in.
he presses the button,
coughs,
looks at his watch.

on the seventh floor,
the doors open
and there is a long pause.

we wait; we breathe.
i stand perfectly still, silent,
clutching my stack of books,
and the man beside me is silent, still,
holding his paper cup of coffee.
no one is there.

we are frozen,
exposed,
a tableau vivant of two strangers
in an elevator.

the doors close again and the elevator goes on,
but there, for a moment,
we were a ten-second drama
viewed by none.

the moment passes.

we reach the main floor.
i rush out
and he rushes out
and other people rush in...

and we are no longer
a work of art.