An Ode to a Revolving Door

By Adrienne Ringin

Issue 7

You spin me right round
Baby right round
And a record will be made
A compilation of the sounds

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Your victims emit
When they’re forced to meander
Through new social rules
To which we now must pander

Is there room for just one?
Or two or three?
When must the slow button be pushed
Can I assume you’ll be slower than me?

The closer to the centre
The quicker the shuffle
Not always of a soft shoe variety
But with equal kerfuffle

And when is too late to enter
Too late to leave?
The people who fail to interpret this
Are everyone’s new pet peeve

And you can forget it
If you’re on four wheels
This mode of entry
Results in a privilege reveal

After getting through
The way is barred once more
By yet another
Electronic type door

Which now feels inferior
Useless, degraded
Whose purpose in life
Has now ultimately faded

So forget what goes on beyond
Forevermore
At the moment, our challenge
Is just to get in the door.