I miss working at the capitol.

Convolution the daily milieu.

Faces key to delight.
           Shirley of the copy hut,
                     Linda of the law library,
           angels both,
and of course the other ones,
           making the magic place what it is.

The basement door leading through a forgotten hallway
           to a steep staircase
                      that ushers me
           and the smell that-must-be-lunch today
                      up from the cafeteria
           into the bright rotunda.

I stride across the marble floor,
under cotton clouds and a robin's egg blue sky
painted in the tip top of the cupola,
holding up the
                      American flag
           brilliant
against a surreal sparkling sky.

Uncertainty yields anticipation.
Even when the day will be
                 quarrels and discord,
                            the mantra,
                                       "...let's see what happens next."

I miss working at the capitol.

Convolution the daily milieu.

Faces key to delight.
           Shirley of the copy hut,
                     Linda of the law library,
           angels both,
and of course the other ones,
           making the magic place what it is.

The basement door leading through a forgotten hallway
           to a steep staircase
                      that ushers me
           and the smell that-must-be-lunch today
                      up from the cafeteria
           into the bright rotunda.

I stride across the marble floor,
under cotton clouds and a robin's egg blue sky
painted in the tip top of the cupola,
holding up the
                      American flag
           brilliant
against a surreal sparkling sky.

Uncertainty yields anticipation.
Even when the day will be
                 quarrels and discord,
                            the mantra,
                                       "...let's see what happens next."

That solitary walk across the mosaic floor
with my Ferragamo steps
           as I pick up the bill packet,
                      say hello to the early crowd
and then
           step into the ultimate repository of all things legal
           and otherwise.

I open the 20 foot Titanic doors,
           reminiscent of a greasy spoon or elegant gin joint,

and swoosh into my corner of solitude,
                      make notes,
                                 make calls,
                                            make promises to myself,
           and others
                      that may
                                 or may not
           be kept.

Bills piled according to status:
           urgent,
                      what's this?
                                 don't think so.

The serenity of that lawful citadel,
           making the black and white crisp pages
                      even more perfect,

a satisfying process to cull the day's language
           bringing order to my day.

I look for my next gulp of air.

I go back,
           out,
into the percolating sound,

like being delivered
           down
a long playground slide and
           standing up
                      in the midst of
a chattering recess frenzy.

Swirling around,
as in a bubble
created by the reverence for this unique historical law library,

           broken
           once I step outside
           into the humming
           chaos
           of my day in the rotunda.

I miss those moments.