In the waiting room

why is there carpet in public places. give the floor no clothes to be trodden by our feet. break up the silence with large gusts of proclamation. I was delivered a fancy letter and I mistook it for a bereaved cadence, a shoe box used for a cats burial some how back now with no smell or sign of the cat. I have not forgotten that poetry is written with leaps inside of it but it does not have to be a tight rope between two opposing cliffs either. a strong gust pushed me further from the side, for example.

often thinking of other people first but only in a selfish way. I do not have a second home that I own, I can not keep the first home clean. I have many places that I could crash if I asked, if I happened to be around. but no, I did not start the day in the present moment. the door poses a rush by its very existence so I rush through it, out of it, to its other side. enter to exist / exit to enter.

build the nicest house on the highest bank let time take the stairs down. sand is not base for a solid structure. unless, the structure is built flexible. I know at least two people are reading this.

remember the time before phone, I did live then too: call before leaving, call at arrival, pay phones and a shop owners kindness from there. what was late then, how long would I wait if some one were late with no way to notify me they were still coming.

in the waiting room we each bend our neck to our own devices. I do not cry anything out or suggest any remedy, only that this is a fact.

there is a large rhododendron by the door and dinner has been laid out.