Handprints appear on these elevator doors,
smudged of grinder swirls, yet so very clear
Imprints of need and want lingering
on a stainless steel façade


Rounded numbers beg to be pushed,
no thirteen in this bunch
though appropriate it would be
as my luck has found its way to the lowest levels


Standing on this suspended platform
cables of strength weaken with each breath,
emergency exits laugh at my predicament,
as left again slowly reaches out for right


Before me you stand, tears on your cheeks
“It is the way it has to be,” you say
The doors close, while through a narrowing vertical slat
I see you walk away…my heart drops…palms on metal…


I can not keep them open…anymore
Going
D
O
  W
    N