for an unconfirmed
held in suspense
undecided date set
to a generalized affair
of you know where I am
and if you need me…
But seeking, anticipating
lurking in the corners,
that hint of arriving–something,
in jittery undertones under-girding
a calm overlay, THE commonality.
To observe the boulevard,
its passing cars unceasing,
flowing like cyclic
bleeding, you count on it,
sense its certain appearance
but never quite prepared,
somewhat surprised, even;
a small part of you disbelieves,
astonished and affronted with stark
reality inscribed in the expected–
just as traffic normatizes forced
obedience, swallowed tolerance and
immunity to poisonous decay,
and comforts the daily usual.
So, what itches beneath the skin?
What stutters contentment?
A species more conditioned to
seek, prize and await the
extraordinary, less populated
than the quotidian dose of
hundred fold–or more–
increments amassed regularly.
So I wait for no one, nowhere,
midst the humming coffee house
quiet nothingness, gaze-glowering
at passersby, plimsole-pedal drones,
all the while sniffing unseen seams,
loosely sewn quilted square panels
that curtain the wizard’s productions–
plotting potential improbability.