Poem: String Lights

It started in the elevator.

It was early morning on the top floor of a hotel and I held the door for an approaching couple.

“Going up?” I asked.

The couple stared at me blankly.

“Aren’t we on the top floor?” The man said.

“Yes, are you going down?” I replied, still holding the door.

“Oh, didn’t you say ‘going up’”?

I froze. Did I?

“Anything’s possible,” I said as they joined me in the elevator. “I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

The couple laughed nervously.

Anxiety kicked in.

Was I being genial enough?

When I arrived at the lobby, I grabbed a cup of coffee and searched for the etymology of the word, “geniality.”

Turns out, it’s rooted in the word “genius,” which itself refers to a closer relationship, the Greeks say, to one’s guardian angel.

The smarter you are, the closer you are to this otherworldly being looking over your shoulder.