Machines called ninja's
were about as agile as a
flying brick. Rolling them
across asphalt parking lots
with coiled hoses piled
atop their tubs took muscle.

Me with my best friend and
wand slinging partner lugged
the gear in at the service
entrance, prepping for another
sludge sucking session.

Checked in early at the Plaza
hotel so ascent to the twenty
seventh floor must wait.
Loitered outside the aluminum
framed sliding glass gate
so my comrade could smoke.

The doors parted and exiting
from the shadow within came
a frail man clothed in pajama
pants a burgundy velvet
smoking jacket and slippers.

As he slowly shuffled past us
arm led toward the nearby
nightclub by a woman decades
his junior, I asked under my breath
is that George Burns?

Still scratching my head,
we proceeded to stuff
wet vacs on steroids into an
elevator and start the rise.
Heading to the top, boyish bouncing
jammed the lift between floors.

After a stint of claustrophobic
confinement we reached our target
and cleaned the carpet.
While loading out my partner's
light bulb brightened and he
blurted "That was Bob Hope!".

Nice poem .

Thanks, Julie. This is based on an actual experience I had in the early 1990's while working as a carpet cleaning tech on Disney property here in Florida. It was surreal seeing world famous Bob Hope being ushered quietly out the service entrance of the fancy hotel just steps in front of me.

Cool! I bet that blew your mind .