Your gentle yawn <br />while reading the sports section <br />as they fill your prescription. <br />A light scratch of your nose <br />as you read the review of the <br />newest hippest band out of L.A. <br />while your new tires are installed. <br />Waiting is the dullness of a brown sparrow <br />flitting to the next wire, <br />the line of ants on a tree trunk. <br /> <br />Not so bad <br />if you have something inoperable <br />and know that boredom <br />is a luxury for the living. <br />The forgettable moments the doctor consults <br />with the nurse in the hallway, <br />the trees from outside swaying in the glass picture frame, <br />the shoe scuff patterns on the linoleum. <br />I didn’t know the cloud I floated on <br />until it was yanked away <br />and I see the dark rocky ground <br />speeding upwards.<br /><br />Michael Philips<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sports-section/
