inside man

cold steel cranks around my wrist, pinching at the hinge and i can't help but smile. i always wondered what this was like, as the blue man group leads me away.

brushed concrete floors clap to the tune of steel toed boots as we march back and forth, truck to shelf, unloading the cargo. furniture. baby seats. clothes. box after box. after box.

jewelry and electronics go into lock-up, up the freight elevator, clang, clang, clanging as it rises into the darkness between floors. little white button on the wire mesh cage...buzzzzzzz...i have today's shipment to unload.

this is where he makes the deal, in hushed voices, out of sight of preying rotating eyes mounted high in the corner. they will never know what hit them. his eyes hit me with the left hook of seriousness.

how did he come up with the idea? are you sure you did not just get cold feet? what do you hope to get out of telling us this? white walls seem so cliche, like they watched one too many cop shows, before they decorated the interrogation room. shiny gold badges delight in my confessions.

here is how it will go down...stale coffee breath lays out his plan.

rubbing red ringed wrists, i watch him lay out the story in his own little white room, pushing stick pins through my wings like a butterfly for his transgressions. little does he know, they heard me story last week, before he ever hatched his plan.

i was the inside man.