Worlds collide everyday

Each week we come to bill the hours
and run home when shift ends.
Endless hallways, white walls,
and glass doors to businesses on each floor
are only perused somewhat intimately
by after-hours office cleaners.
The daily activities going on upstairs
in the various floors and offices, I’ll never know.
The who’s who I can’t tell unless they’re connected
to my department. Paintings and portraits here
and there, exquisite sofas; and the exterior
of the building is made of granite with a prestigious
gold plated name making millions–
possibly billions of dollars, to produce work
for the average man and woman constricted
between worlds and home. My part
is to show teeth and say good morning,
good evening, how’s your day,
yes sir, yes ma’am, right this way;
their part is to politely collide their worlds
next to mine like the planets in the universe do,
to make night and day possible.