Eva Jackson: 0044

Going up

Manhood make you mad, manhood make you
Enter the lift in solemn silence. Manhood make another man enter the lift
Womanhood and me make me small, make me sidle into the corner and stretch my energy for comfort
Make me crane my neck into a cloud of condolence,
Make me smile at nothing.
Manhood make you turn when it is just us two, and say
You live here, alone?
I say colleagues, colleagues, many colleagues
Just around the corner in office, and I
Yes, I live here.
Oh, you say, but you live alone?
I have friend, housemate, I say. She here coming this weekend. Overshare.
Ah – but you are here alone, you say.
You are handsome, young. Maybe it is important to you
To know whether I live here alone. Maybe it is a courteous enquiry.
Certainly, my brain is excessively courteous.
Your door opens, 7, one floor below mine, you see I wait still, you close it –
Solicitous. A friendship blooming, perhaps, in some part of your mind?
I step out at 8, say goodbye, I wave through your attempt to talk further,
I am at the lock. I hear a sound: ks, ks. Voice.
I continue to work the key at the lock. Ks, ks.
I see your head at the lift door,
Maintaining its station so that you can summon me back.
I take strides, ask do you want something?
You look like a hurt boy. You say
Why you don’t want to talk to me,
In my country, I say, we don’t talk to strangers (which is not true)
Oh, you say, looking crestfallen, seeing my look of mistrust,
‘You do not believe me’.
And the door closes, and you go down.