Remembering Elevator Men
by Odin Roark

Wrinkled hands
rotate time's worn handle of half circles,
giving arrest to past rides awakened.

Up and down,
listening,
hearing,
never forgetting.

Watch your step…

Ornate iron confinement,
charming for youth,
insulation for some,
sentencing for others.

Cables retch echoing secrets within,
sliding metal dregs past elevated remembrances
among whispered conspiracies,
softly spoken nothings,
muffled weeping,
all preambles shadowed
in corners of illusive passage.

Momentary respite
gradually gives way to silent whimpers of fear,
as passengers await floor-stops,
fortune,
reward,
love,
regret.

Eyes rise,
arcing brass arrow above
waves wisdom's index finger
past floors of reverie,
and invisible floor thirteen,
as elevator men provide
continued days of filigree fantasies
to satiate passenger expectations…

for the moment, anyway.