That once had inexplicably gone rogue
The ground floor and the twelfth floor
Without any cause that the agonized
Janitor could hope to understand until
But for how long would it be stopped?.
Thanked be fortune, the front elevator
Was ever predictable in the hands
Of the septuagenarian elevator men:
Pete, Egnar, Joe, and a night shift man
Whose proper name I didn't know;
I just thought of him as Also Joe.
Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwse.
A very good murder mystery takes place in a stalled elevator during a power failure, The author: a Columbia grad, naturally. Roar, lion, roar.
Posted by: David Lehman | September 15, 2024 at 05:05 PM