The Lift

Posted: September 4, 1993 in Poetry

I wait with the irrational fears.
I’m packed in the same elevator as them,
standing shoulder to shoulder;
they’re all in business suits and
they look almost friendly.
but it is just because they recognize me
from my frequency in riding the lift.
my relationship to them is this:
we see each other on the elevator,
which can take a long time
to decide which floor it is going to
let me out on.

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