the elevator, it's crowded.
young and old
together.
but i smell my grandmother's
perfume in
the air.
i casually look
around.
it could be any one
of these
women.
i listen for the clanging
of jewelry
around a wrist,
a small dog
in someone's arm,
a thick Boston accent
telling someone
what button
to push for her floor
to get off on.
a gravelly voice
damning the Kennedys
for a world
gone wrong.
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