One has to be ready for anything
on a day like this. When you step
into the lift to join the others
who pretend you don’t exist
(or perhaps they just can’t see you)
and the door concertinas with a clatter
and the smell of stale tobacco
combined with the antique design
conspires to take you back
to a time 50 years ago,
it can’t help but strike you how
it all seems like no time at all
and that all those early mornings
sitting on the bus in the rain
warm in your overcoat were for nothing.
Now, at least, we’re going up in the world
to the third floor: the cage
rocks a little then stops.
What am I letting myself in for?
you wonder but whatever passes
through your mind, so what?
You’ll find out soon enough.
(c) Sackerson, 2019