Lifts

I ride lifts five days a week. I watch the doors gently close in front of me, confining me to a room that is pushed and pulled downwards and up.

I watch the doors close... gently... smoothly... carefully.

I watch the doors and I wonder what it would be like to ride lifts that had doors, which I would have to close myself-- those old-fashioned, industrial-age lifts with metal gratings that passengers needed to scrape closed-- the ones we see in movies filtered in sepia.

Funny, this nostalgia for an age in which I never participated.

I want to ride an old-fashioned lift.