022

inside a train station
a technician steps between two ticket gates
in a row of twelve

he wears a pale turquoise jacket
and a grape arm band
giving him some kind of authority

he places his black plastic tool box on the ground
and opens the lid which displays a hand-painted stop sign
so that people avoid his temporary workstation

he takes a key from his orange jelly chain
hanging from a belt loop
sticks it into the side of the machine
and turns the lock

he opens the brushed aluminum case
to reveal a skeleton of moving parts
hundreds of them
all silver and layered
shallow in depth

so much complexity
just to shoot through train stubs
and open a gate

with a carefully trained eye
he reads the machine
like a user’s manual
noticing each piece for its purpose
with no gap between symbol and referent

leaning over at 90 degrees
he inspects every minute detail
for the slightest imbalance

he loosens and tightens every screw

rotates a dial

tests the belts

replaces a part

and adds a little oil
where needed

he conducts this operation
to a crowd of unsuspecting travelers
entering and exiting
rushing past him
an invisible man
tending to a fragment
of our everyday existence
we so easily take for granted

finally he takes a can of air
with a long thin red nozzle
and sprays each crevice between gears
removing every last dust particle

afterward he puts all his tools
back into his tool box
and slides it over
to the next machine on the line