the elevator

the elevator
is slow
today.
it's tired
of heaving
people up and
down,
down and up
from nine
to five
with hardly
a thank you,
a single,
hey.
it serves
the building
so well
with its
steel boxed
room,
the coiled
cables,
greased
quiet by a little
man
with thick
glasses
and a mustache
who
eats his
lunch up
on the roof.