but I don't drive

riding the elevator
     down,

with the red
and clear
bags of waste,
evidence of
the dead
or hardly living,

as several
women
dressed in blue
stepped on
all smiling
but one,

pretty
young
nurse

who smelled
of soiled linen
and raspberry
chewing gum
before it's
drained of flavor

she stared
helplessly
at the floor
as if she
didn't believe
her designer shoes
were upon it,

or she
could still see
the blood
long washed away,

the smiles
loaded
and unloaded
the flesh
and bone
that carried them

I took notice
  of her hand
    shaking
       like mine would
         after a night of drinking
            what was only sometimes
                 enough,

floor
by floor

the cleaning ladies
      got on,
          and off,

bringing their
spanish conversations
with them,

as we roared
toward the ground floor,
it was as though
she was pulled
from the
screams
and moans
that plagued her,

she emitted a sigh
like people
I'de often seen,
that had
spent their tears
for the day
and knew how
to budget them,

we were alone

me

   her

       and

the bags
of garbage

I spoke,

"rough day?"

she made
direct
eye contact with me
as if sifting
through

my thoughts
my past
my intentions

and everything
I lugged around
much like the trash

"I've seen things today that...
just wear your seat belt."

she sniffled,
and walked out
into the sunlight,

no more
raspberry,

just me
and the

stench
     of death

headed for
the basement