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The Waiting Room Outside My Door MAG
I guess I will do something like homework.
Purposeful, delivered with instructions – to be completed.
But I cannot forget those shadows on the building nearby.
The way the sky does not know whether or not to be blue
So it rests on the roofs in order to
contemplate its decision.
I remind him to breathe – as well as I.
There, that helps.
Now we can follow the linear direction of the telephone wires.
Train tracks in the expanse. They allow for geometrical
sense to be made of it all.
Damn. They led me right to the clock!
How could they?
The time I did not need.
Why did my eye follow that line so faithfully?
Now those minutes that I lost and forgot all line up outside my door.
Waiting to be counted and named. But I cannot go to the door and let them in.
There just isn't enough room in this small apartment!
So I sit in my chair, perfectly consumed by book.
Yet I do hear them shuffling and muttering and shifting outside
making room in the hall as newcomers arrive.
Every once in a while, a particularly insistent one will ring that buzzer.
A delusion that his interval remains
very pressing and must not be missed.
I will post a check-in list up on the door
maybe they can schedule appointments.
Then they will see just how busy I am.
Unfortunately I cannot now
I can only wait for the evening when they give up for the day and clear out.
Because, if I opened that door even a crack to slide the paper through, one or two would manage to slip by. I might even be risking the lot of them piling up on the door until I just couldn't hold it up any more and they would all clamber and fall in, one on top of the other (none are very considerate or patient) and I just wouldn't be able to stop them! Can you imagine the mess they'd make in here?
I did just sweep the floors.