No time to explore
the lobby so make it 

up as you charge
down the back stair 

well. A dry one.
Not a drunk in sight. No mirrors 

or reflective glass
walls to encase you 

in your own reprieve
from the next flood. A drought 

at another bottom. You’ve read
the views bind guests 

to spells of stillness.
It’s not the pause 

in your story. Are you
that delusional, or are you the real 

omnipotent narrator come to quell
the intrusive one?