From the Waiting Room

Standard

I’m convinced that

if I got to see purgatory,

it would have those

dim old fluorescent lights

like in the dentist’s office.

Coffee tables

adorned with Styrofoam cups

and nondescript vases

full of plastic flowers.

I will fall apart before they do.

And even with all of those

ancient magazines

to read,

I wonder if I’d find the time.

My crossed legs,

already well acquainted

with pins and needles,

would dance in place.

Caught in the vacuum

of stasis.

In this case,

I’m just fine with the cold comfort

of “could be worse.”

At a crossroads

between appointments,

waiting for my turn.

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Jitters

Standard

Drum roll please,

Thumb, pointer, middle, ring, pinky-

And repeat,

Repeat,

Repeat.

While you daydream,

Whilst waiting,

Impatiently,

Humming,

Tapping your feet.

“Read a magazine,

Or something,

More distracting–

Or less distracting,

To other people,

Please,

Quit fidgeting,

Stop twitching.”

Flat screen Televisions,

Cover the walls,

Untouched children’s toys,

I’m too old for,

Riddle the floor.

Stuck in the lobby,

Awaiting drills,

Hooks, brushes,

And pumice.

The Waiting Game

Standard

Wu wei,

Each day,

Parlay,

Then part ways.

Nonaction, indeed,

Is a good strategy.

An absentee,

Cannot be,

On the team,

Deemed,

The loser.

Nonaction,

Trains one,

To run from,

The game,

Entirely.

“Let it fall on your lap,”

Relax,

Take a nap,

Do your taxes.

No matter how fast,

You run,

The rat race,

It doesn’t change,

The fact,

That beyond it’s face,

It’s a maze.