Wednesday, March 04, 2015

Waiting Room at Sloan Kettering

Much fewer words
because they
no longer come easily.
It's amazing how my
declining competence is
mistaken for shyness.
I sit in the large
waiting room and watch
the flow of people
less aged than 75.
They're all
thinking about the years,
barreling down the escalator
and straight past me
toward the busy-ness,
with single-minded faces.
In a world of wounds and
weakness, I sit on this
borrowed chair, not
knowing how
to handle my coat.


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