A great ticking, whirring from the room below,
where the couple lived, the one with flowers by their windows
a syncronous vibration, the smell of oil and steam when you open the door
figures carrying wrenches, instruments, lit by filaments
inspecting, adjusting, building a mechanical beast, an engine breathing
with pipes, hydraulics filling the room, running up and through the floor,
the ceiling, the windows. Gears holding gears interlock, the door is closed
and you fall asleep.