Waiting Room

I am a hoarder of seconds
On the border of boredom
Learning life's long lessons
Or maybe just ignoring them

The carpet is reminiscent of oatmeal
The walls are a green, yellow, beige,
In the distance keystrokes clack,
As someone talks, sniffles, turns a page

The TV on the wall is so loud
I can't focus on this poem
It goes on and on about diabetes,
In a loop, like a drone.
Take me home.
Let's go home.

In the air hangs a yawning despair,
Not even it wants to be here.
It would rather be out there
Past the portrait windows
In the open air

The longer I wait,
The more I sedate
Until I'm a fixture of the room
Like the composite desk in the corner,
The green plastic-armed chairs,
Or the fake pink flowers, forever abloom.


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