He leans against an elevator.

A fascinator for a day.

They chat about the weather.

The overcast and winter storm.

He checks her whereabouts and

Where is destination.

The fifteenth floor. Voila.

An elevator folds inside

And fills the silent void,

Then zips up in one leap.

An accordeon stretch.

She turns the key, then fights to pull it out,

Until it gives; then enters the inside.

The glass wall with cascading fall

Filters the diffused light.  The left bank

Lurks looking upon the loop of

Silver tubes zooming in crossword

Puzzle. The river’s ribbon still,

The snail of rails. The train go rattling

Past, making a minute meet

Where time stands still at morn

Down  there at State and Canal Street.