Appointment at 4.
She has not called me yet.
Grandma surely wonders,
if...if...if...,
would it be heaven?
would it be hell?
I assure her, unsolicited,
God hears all Her children.
Triangles awaken
as stubborn perrenials,
raising with familiarity,
nature's ironic patterns.
Women's chatter fills
the room, Fill it. Fill it.-
another familiar pattern.
Space, anxiety, space, anxiety
Fill the anxiety.
Feel the anxiety.
It's 5:32.
When will they call me?
Counting up the barters
to offer the Gods
in exchange for a
most pleasant phone call.
It's 5:39.
