stray elevator 

does not go to heaven
despite what the sign says.
only one man returned from his trip
& he says the clouds are made 
of tiny glass shards. he says,
"i walked through a stain glass window."
the elevator stands resolute 
on a sidewalk corner.
i tell my friends via text
"there's another one this week."
the elevators began after 
a week of downpours. creases 
of the sidewalk still mucky 
from silt & river grime. some believe
in omens but i believe only in
arrivals. what if what is forthcoming
is part of the advent? i think of 
snail trails & bread crumbs.
out my bedroom window
i can see the machine. tempted, 
i put on slippers to walk out to it.
how close am i to boarding
an unknown? others come too to stare.
a neighbor asks, "is anyone 
getting inside?" we all neither say
"yes" or "no." we want to keep
the option open. cool metal caress.
i want to be delivered 
to a messy nowhere. want to have to write
a new language to describe 
the world past my imagination.
instead, with great hesitation,
we all depart. i watch the machine
for hours until, finally, in the dead of night
while you are sleeping, someone slips inside.
no deliberation. no words.
decesive. up it goes until it's gone.
i feel relief & sorrow. no more temptation.
no more day-dusk-night dreaming.
secretly, i hope another 
is soon to follow. hope it comes
right into the bedroom. door wide open.
little white light inside.