or, Open Letter

I used to wait
by windows and in train stations and at the end of long intellectual meetings
and on street corners and in the driver’s seat of my car.
But now,
I don’t wait anymore.
I look at people,
places,
things;
colours and shapes and feelings left by sudden falls of rain that leave too quickly to have affected anything at all.
I take it all in, and I write poetry and read books,
I sing songs too loudly and I argue too spiritedly.
I have stopped waiting
in favour of existing
and I will not apologize for that.
When he slides into the seat across from me
in a diner researching something of infinite interest to me
and says through a smile,
“Sorry to keep you waiting”,
I will say
“You haven’t.
Don’t forget that.”

The End

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