as he's waiting in line, the eyes
dart from point to point to
face.
the nervous smile tells all
that this is not where
he would like to be. this
is his past, as far as he
wants it. beyond that,
the open horizon of a dream
and he's stuck in the waiting room.

he cant hold back all this buildup
as the sweat gently soaks his shirt.
he thinks himself calm, in control.
he exudes a glimpse into
instability.

he's rapping his fingers.
he's tapping his foot.
he's grinding hit teeth,
and checking his watch,
knowing that the moment will never pass.

and the anticipation has amounted
to something he thought he expected
(but truly doubted):
this would be the day where happiness arrives
this is the day he is no longer alive

the wait was over.

04/19/2003

Posted on 04/19/2003
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams