I Wait
Between the UPS man and all the other minutiae of my life, I sure do seem to spend a lot of time waiting. And you know what? Regardless of any fondness I might have for anticipation, waiting is hard. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
I wait for my kids. They move at their own diminished baby-speed. Man, they can be slow. I wait for them when they want to do things by themselves. To get into the car, to put on their shoes, to take off their jackets, to clean up their mess. I wait for them to be potty-trained. For them to talk, communicate, express themselves to their own satisfaction. I wait for them to follow instructions. For them to grow up to awful adulthood so I can long for them to be young again. For us all to be young again.
I wait in line at the grocery store. At the drive-thru. At the coffee shop. At the post office. I wait for that song to play on the radio. I wait for packages and e-mails and paperwork. I wait for the courage to say it out loud, to dive in, to move forward. I wait for the strength to just do it.
I wait for the phone to ring. I wait for the right moment. For the perfect time to say that, well, to say what I have been wanting to say. I wait for someone else to say it first so I don’t have to be the brave one. I wait for my tax refund, for 5:00, for payday, for test results, for my period to start. And then I wait for it to stop.
I wait for that one face to appear within my line of vision. I wait for that tingle and the butterflies to come again. I wait for the mailman to bring a letter that never comes, for Ed McMahon to knock on my door, for the waitress to come with the bill. I wait for my ship to come in.
I wait and wait and wait for the next smoke, the next drink, the next kiss, the next touch, the next orgasm. The next good dream, the next creative inspiration, the next idea, the next feeling of deja vu, the next moment of recognition, the next person to do something, say something, anything nice to me. I wait to be heard, to be seen, to be visible to you. I wait for the words to come.
Hey, wait up.
Wait for me.
I wait for my kids. They move at their own diminished baby-speed. Man, they can be slow. I wait for them when they want to do things by themselves. To get into the car, to put on their shoes, to take off their jackets, to clean up their mess. I wait for them to be potty-trained. For them to talk, communicate, express themselves to their own satisfaction. I wait for them to follow instructions. For them to grow up to awful adulthood so I can long for them to be young again. For us all to be young again.
I wait in line at the grocery store. At the drive-thru. At the coffee shop. At the post office. I wait for that song to play on the radio. I wait for packages and e-mails and paperwork. I wait for the courage to say it out loud, to dive in, to move forward. I wait for the strength to just do it.
I wait for the phone to ring. I wait for the right moment. For the perfect time to say that, well, to say what I have been wanting to say. I wait for someone else to say it first so I don’t have to be the brave one. I wait for my tax refund, for 5:00, for payday, for test results, for my period to start. And then I wait for it to stop.
I wait for that one face to appear within my line of vision. I wait for that tingle and the butterflies to come again. I wait for the mailman to bring a letter that never comes, for Ed McMahon to knock on my door, for the waitress to come with the bill. I wait for my ship to come in.
I wait and wait and wait for the next smoke, the next drink, the next kiss, the next touch, the next orgasm. The next good dream, the next creative inspiration, the next idea, the next feeling of deja vu, the next moment of recognition, the next person to do something, say something, anything nice to me. I wait to be heard, to be seen, to be visible to you. I wait for the words to come.
Hey, wait up.
Wait for me.
Comments
What did you say?
Sorry, I couldn't resist...giggle
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-am-waiting/
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/leonardcohen/waitingforthemiracle.html
Dan