Then we went different ways--
had to, after the battery died.
Empty-minded, I waited for a guy
partially open windows letting in
unnoticed sounds: engines starting,
roving snippets of voices drifting pat;
gutter noises. I'd hear a sentence but nothing
after that: I imagined the response.
The people came and went from
outside dusk into bright shops:
residential old folks; one very fat lady;
yellow-eyed kids looking suspicious,
bumming around, off to make trouble, I hoped.
Exaggerating college girls, anxiously vain,
followed-but-not by a college guy
of whom I think they knew: "Is it Daniel?"
recited with exaggerated cynicism, I guess
eager to prove she's not a child anymore.
After dark a receptionist finally left,
paused in the door to gather her things;
only minutes later, another one, locking up.
Seemed late for dentist receptionists.
Saw nobody at the desk for the dojo, for example.
I noticed though, I could see them having class
bouncing in uniforms: jump in unison, Shout! Kick!
Looking back, I saw the balding man in a beige shirt
embarked on his third shuffling journey past
dart a secret look back at that receptionist;
I saw his lurid gaze, and she did too;
very quickly they both turned away.
Onwards, time: eventually the guy will arrive,
restart the battery, and then I will driver home.
Cautiously optimistic, I examine myself: full of
expectations. But maybe not. Maybe
when he comes, I'll drive elsewhere, or maybe
it's busted, and he will shrug and say he has to
tow me away, or maybe I'll wait and wait and
he will never come, in which case I will sit here
killing time, forever, watching sidewalk dramas
in an endless unknown, all hope slowly
dwindling into this new and dark reality, this
silent grey purgatory before.
Oct 2022
