Waiting

The pavement burns under my feet,
I lean against the chain-link fence,
bounce off of it like a trampoline.
The leaves twirl -
they are concentrated, as if in a waltz.
My eyes squint
I pick the lint off my faded sweater.
My cell phone in hand,
I’m ready to answer when it begins to pulsate.
The birds argue,
the tree’s raspy laugh is carried by the wind,
and the grass is cold, under the damp morning blanket.
Nothingness hangs on me like
my dad’s old trench coat,
and loneliness is a bowler hat that sits neatly on my head.