Class in the Field House Elevator

Hi BlueAfrica, here are some of my thoughts on your poem:

sitting in a glass elevator
with nowhere to go

Wow, what a terrific first couple lines. I am left wondering what kind of potential we have for the rest of the poem and what we are meant glean out of this image.

is like
sitting in a ball pit
in the middle of town
and meeting unstrangers

Okay...well, maybe it's just a poem about not being anywhere specifically, but no matter what odd place or circumstance you're in there is always a bit of absurdity to the world, especially when others are watching...

is like
lying on a stage floor
to gaze up at the darkness of
catwalks seven stories above

And... this, okay this is where I stop pretending to guess and simply believe you are trying to make fancy similes that sound cool. Stop that. It is not how poetry works. Similes are great, but not everything equates with everything. And if you want it to, you can't just say it. You have to prove it. If you want us to believe something is like something else, show us, don't just have us take your word for it. Because we won't.

You have an interesting sort of format with the "is like" idea, but you have to make the idea work, not just throw in random images. How do these equate? How are they similar? Right now you have failed to show us. They don't connect properly. There has to be an underlying connection to them all. If you don't have that, we'll just ignore the fact that you want us to look at them as connected and you lose the power of the poem's form.