The Rant that became a Poem

I’m always amazed how they go in

Without thinking

Then close the steel doors on themselves.

Haven’t these people any imagination?

Sometimes they are bunched up in there

like sardines in a can.

Speaking of cans I can’t help thinking of the Kursk

how those poor submariners were coffined

in a can.

Speaking of coffins, that’s what they remind me of.

Lifts.

Vertical coffins.

Going Down?

My counsellor says I have too vivid an imagination.

Isn’t that what writers are supposed to have?

Anything can happen.

I think of ‘The Towering Inferno’ and those people

plummeting to their deaths when the lift cables

snap

or in ‘Speed’ when they are cut.

And my counsellor says to calm my farm!

Speaking of farms I think of cattle being trucked

to the slaughterhouse and not knowing

till it’s too late.

And speaking of not knowing, and I promise I won’t

speak of ‘speaking of’ again but I bet poor old Nicolas White

never knew when he stepped into an elevator back in 2008

that he would be trapped in it for 41 hours.

No food. No drink. No cell phone. No company.

 I don’t know if those people got out at the other end

or not

but I’m taking the stairs.

7 thoughts on “The Rant that became a Poem

  1. I love this rant, John, so clever, again! It reminded me of days of working at the Taxation Office in Adelaide, back in the days when the building we almost all worked in was the tallest building in Adelaide. 65 King William Street. I had some good times there, and was never stuck in the lift for too long. The lift doors almost always opened when the lift arrived at the required floor. 18 floors it has, that building, and the view from the top is amazing!

    Liked by 1 person

    • thank you, Carolyn. I feared no one would respond to such a way-out piece but I tried to keep it amusing and interesting. Phobias are a very worthy topic but little attempted. Whew ! and thanks for the back story about your job 🙂

      Like

  2. thanks Beth for that. I remember you mentioned your fear of clowns in a previous piece and the fear of heights can’t be far from the fear of closed spaces to which the fear of tiny tunnels — an unusual one — would neatly fit 🙂 would not want to have been one of those junior footballers trapped in those underground caves in Thailand recently

    Like

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