(c) 1990
I cling to broken handrails—
there is no bottom.
At nauseating speed,
it takes me everywhere
except where I need to go.
I press down—
it rises,
past floors
that weren’t there before.
I will be late.
I will lose my job.
I will miss the sale.
Long after closing
it lets me off
on the wrong floor.
Is this protection—
or abduction?
A man is following me.
I grab what I can—
wigs, hat, dark sunglasses—
trying to disappear
into the crowd.
But there is no crowd.
The store is empty.
The exits are chained.
The only way out
is the elevator.
I have no say
where it goes.
