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On the Elevator Going Down
--Richard Brautigan
A Caucasian gets on at
the 17th floor.
He is old, fat, and expensively
dressed.
I say hello / I'm friendly.
He says, "Hi."
Then he looks very carefully at
my clothes.
I'm not expensively dressed.
I think his left shoe costs more
than everything I am wearing.
He doesn't want to talk to me
any more.
I think that he is not totally aware
that we are really going down
and there are no clothes after you have
been dead for a few thousand years.
He thinks as we silently travel
down and get off at the bottom
floor
that we are going separate
ways.
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