Should I ask his name?
Should I ask his name
The man in the elevator—
I don’t know his name.
He looks like he’s been riding the crazy train
with a one-way ticket and no return.
Shoes on backwards,
hat on the floor,
stuck somewhere
between the elevator doors.
He speaks no words,
just the same stare,
the same weird dance of limbs.
Once again—
I don’t know his name.
Lips dry, skin pale,
what is that ridiculous smell?
I wonder where he’s going,
but honestly,
does it even matter?
Do I want to know his name?
He wears a coat,
but no shirt.
Shoes, yes.
Pants? Not so much.
Should I ask him to dance?
Should I ask his name?
Probably not.
The man in the elevator
has no name.
And maybe—
that’s exactly the point.
Copyright © Stefanie Iverson | Year Posted 2025
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