Top To Bottom

On the First Floor,
is everyone happy?
Nobody gets past the first floor.
I wonder why that is.
Is it too much of an effort
to lift one’s heavy feet up the stairs?
We have elevators these days.
I can come to no conclusions.

On the Second Floor,
I can’t see Nobody—
but that might be his picture on the wall.
He could be downstairs,
mingling with the in-crowd,
but I doubt if they could see him either.
Why did he leave his anonymity?
I can come to no conclusions.

On the Third Floor,
that must be where it all started:
the descent to the ground floor—
that “Happening Place”
where they laugh, drink cocktails, gossip,
enjoying the similitude of friendship.
It’s a lonely room,
where the force of gravity begins,
bypassing Nobody on its way down.
I can come to no conclusions.