The ceiling vent puffs a snowflake.Plush seats, equidistantly aligned,
embrace passengers for a toxin-
purging voyage. Within those seat-
to-seat fields, miniature towers blink,
pump, and slosh like concurrently-
discharging slush makers -- pseudo-
excretory systems on wheels.An attendant nudges an unshaven,
head-drooping regular for a prior no-
show, while assessing a tube --
a red, spasmatic serpent. Beside
him, droops another victim, though
with paling skin. His device sirens.Their survival cost is a three-to-four-
hour seat-slouch with periodicals,
headphones, and/or daydreams --
their one wish -- the very thing we,
the majority, posse...
Waiting rooms all have chairs
They buy uniform chairs
In bulk in a dark warehouseI suppose it makes sense
Brings the room together
Eases tension and fearMe, I think, it's neurotic
Your house doesn't have
All the same goddamn chairsThese ones are blue and scratchy
The walls are beige and dull
Like sand with a tiny fake oceanAn old woman, next to me
She breathes through an oxygen tank
Rise, Fall, Rise, Fall, R-Rise, cough"Is this your first time?"
Yes. Does it hurt?
She pats my hand and doesn't answerThey have scars on their arms
And scars on their leaking kidneys
Which is why they're hereI'm too young to be here
I see the sympathy in their ...