Lunch

I’m at the front of the line for a burger.

There are fumes behind me.

From the ones who are waiting for me.

Through my pauses and stuttering.

Ticking and tapping behind me.

Tapping feet that is like marching in my ears.

But this burger…

It’s my favorite in the world.

I survived waiting in line this long.

And they will survive waiting on me.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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