Walking on Thin Ice

I feel left behind on our couch. I look through the doorway into the kitchen. Vague shadows shift from around the corner, assemble themselves into Smith, who manifests in the doorway, holding a half avocado skin. “You know what this is?”
   ”Avocado skin?”
   ”Ash tray,” he states. I laugh. “Excellent!”
   He walks to the kitchen, sits down on his nylon rope chair, lights half a joint, cradles the avocado skin in his left hand. He looks aimless. I wonder, Why is he sitting out there rather than in here, with me? I want to know every quantum instant of his thinking process.
   ”I can see you looking through space at the door but I can see you’re not seeing the door,” Smith says, “so I need a way to see what you see inside. I’m gonna have little revolving mirrors installed all inside your head. They’ll twist and turn so I can catch your thoughts. Then I’ll have to have a little antennae come off the top of your skull to transmit the thought image to me.”
   ”Why you so interested?”
   ”We spend so much time together, we’re a collaborative team. I need to know your thoughts, your dreams, your schemes, your themes.”
   ”Well I’m glad I’m also of such infinite interest to you.”