The Doorman

The Doorman by Nelia-Sol White

 

I

Am a fly on a wall that

No one built.

 

I

Watch them walk past me,

A nod or a smile never there.

 

I

Open the same door over and over again,

Swoosh, swoosh, revolving, spinning.

 

I

Say Good Morning, Mr. Davison!

But only air passes between us.

 

I

Say Have a nice evening, Mrs. Woods!

And she frowns like a villain.

 

I

Wonder if they talk about me

To their friends. In a good way, I hope.

 

I

Wonder if they talk about me

At all.

 

I

Know about them,

About her affair and his corruption.

 

But I

Don’t know if they know

Where I go once I’m through the door.

 

I

Wonder sometimes if

I matter too.

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