Waiting
There was no line
Only my squirming recognition
Of another stage
A sense of potential, a yearning for autonomy
And when liquid chaned to air
The queu suddenly appeared
Without premonition, nor control
I waited to be fed
Waited for the will of sleep
In school's long line
And church's quiet pew
At back of empty buses
Water fountains
The grocer where I spend
The doctor that must urgent mend
I await them all
We are made to wait our whole lives
In a line that little moves
Life is such a wait it apalls
The silence of it
That love nor lover ever understands
At the bottom of the ripening tree
Where the fruits never fall
Time in slow procession
Inches to where I am in queu
Waiting
The final most dreaded thing of all
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