The elevator shivered as it climbed
the three or maybe four floors to the office,
I hurried to the copy editor’s desk
where a balding man unwrapped
a mid-morning snack, usually
a salami or tunafish sandwich,
but not before tucking any truant
lettuce back into its bread,
motioning with his free
hand for me to sit. Sit.
He reached for a red pencil
and went to battle, now
munched on Saltine crackers
sweeping any crumbs into his palm,
& emptying them into his open mouth,
double-waxing my copy
& circled the one or two words
he deemed acceptable.
He never wore glasses.
Start here.
In a few moments, it was over,
patted his mouth with a white napkin
and dismissed me with a sweet smile.
I thanked him and hid behind my desk,
grateful to escape.
He said he needed 250 words
in less than ten minutes.
I rolled another sheet of paper
into the typewriter & shifted the carriage
all the way to the left with a sharp ding.