we keep going into stairwells
and the tracking cannot find us
he loves each step. He wants
to spend all his time in them
loves the way they have smell, loves
looking at the pipes, and the chairs that people put there
and the cigarettes.
Often, you can disappear in them
in stairwells, that is.
He revealed to me years ago:
Stairwells are an oasis.
Stairwells are exercise
in a hospital when you’ve spent nine
hours sitting next to your loved one holding their hand.
Stairwells are elevator storms
are dribbling steps
are mysterious clicks
are silence
and echo, too.
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