Standing in line, shifting
back and forth, uneasy on my feet
looking out the window at the grey sky
just wanting to get out of here
glaring up at the cashier as she
takes
her
sweet
time
methodically dispatching customers
like cats dispatch mice—very slowly
performing an internal monologue
to the sympathetic audience of myself
about the virtues of efficiency
and the upsetting lack thereof
in this gas station
and then realizing I have only
been standing in this line for
about 75 seconds—which is less time
than I will spend on my phone
picking out what I will listen to next
when I get back into the car.
Author’s Notes:
I’m traveling today, so we have a travel themed poem. I’ll spare myself from doing a very extensive write-up this week, but I will say that I definitely think it’s funny how it’s easy for me to get annoyed by what I perceive as other people wasting my time, but am perfectly happy wasting it on my own.
Favorite Line(s):
“methodically dispatching customers
like cats dispatch mice—very slowly”
The best possible description of my internal life:
“performing an internal monologue
to the sympathetic audience of myself”