Doors and Stairways

My life has been all
doors and stairways
today. There have been the
wheezing doors of buses,
leading to the short, steep stairs
into the belly of the machine.
Doors in and out of classrooms,
stairs up and down floors.
Another bus.
In one building and out the next.

And then they turned on me,
doors and stairways,
twisting into a maze,
trying to trap me like
a fly in a web.

One door says "stairs,"
so I twist down them
and find a floor too late
the plaque reads:
"Roof Access
No B1 Access"
So I twist up them.

Second door says "stairs,"
so I peak inside
and check the plaque
before venturing down.
The plaque reads:
"No Roof Access
B1 Access"
so I twist down them.

Room numbers count up,
count down.
Jump to thirty,
jump to eight,
jump to forty.
70, 71, 79.
But a lime green post-it
on the door reads:
"Room 161
Phy 212 only."
79, 71, 70.
Jump to forty,
jump to eight,
jump to thirty.

wait for the elevator?
No, my life is all
doors and stairways
today. I twist up,
I don't ride.
Doors and stairways.

And skybridges
back to whichever land
isn't a maze.