waiting

Audio for the poem

you are waiting
like the rest of us

waiting, lined up in the queue,
me with my torn shirt,

you with your torn dress
from childhood.

standing in a line
that never moves

and none of us remember
what we are waiting for.

And each in their turn
shift their weight from

left foot to right foot;
waiting. And each time

we do the ground
beneath us shifts

just a little.

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