Watching Them Wait

Lola's fingers tremble 'round her beads, Her lips move, soundless prayers; While outside, weeds Push through cracked leads— Life finds a way, who cares? I can't grasp their dread of death, This urge to bargain, plead; Each day's a breath Of joy, of meth— Why beg for more to heed? What bugs me most: they're wasting time, Eyes fixed on pearly gates; While church bells chime, They miss life's prime, As if it's heaven that waits. They're blind to now—the pub's last call, A friend's impromptu gig The night's free-fall, Some stranger's sprawl Moments both small and big. I want to yell, "Oi! Look alive!" But who am I to judge? They'll strive and strive, Half-dead, half-alive, While I down another fudge. So let them pray, let them dream, Of some grand aftershow; I'll take ice cream, Watch a Dota 2 team, And all this messy now. -