waiting to play the game
fast and empty
waiting for love
for a quick companion
for anxious fingers to touch
waiting for a smile
and for fragile flowers to bloom

waiting for something to happen
waiting like fire
for a summer rain
the ritual face fades
and the clock keeps ticking
(are we)
waiting for better days
as the sidewalks cracks and breaks
telling us stories of nervous travelers

waiting for a sign (of the times)
waiting for destinations never reached
as the sun continues to shine
reaching for some treacherous new beginning

waiting for hope
waiting for peace
waiting as the dogs of war
prowl and prey
upon the average man

waiting for a raise
waiting for a tip
waiting like an insect
as this square machine
continues to grind your soul

waiting for the truth
waiting for a lie
waiting for tired days to end
and lively evenings to begin

waiting for sleep
waiting for dreams
as tattered photos fade
and hidden spiders spin their complex webs

waiting for tradition
waiting for sacred vision
waiting for a laughing deity
to bless you one more time

waiting like a bird on a wire
waiting for a rough world to soften
as delicate wings again seek the sea

waiting to make it
waiting for fiction to become reality

and finally,
waiting for these loud poems
to quietly finish themselves
words wane and wager against creation
it’s a gamble few of us take