I wait
on this coffee table stool
shaking for what is submerged
in the olive green floorboards.
Ears waiting by the creaks of the
adjacent rosewood rocking chairs
between the shadowy figures.

The figures pass and leave,
unaware and blind, wanting
from the inside down. Breaking
from the yellow mist of the
daily hurry with rushed newspaper
articles that can only be skimmed
and the hastened clatter of spoons
on teacups.

The metallic blue of the abandoned
spoons envelope me as it pierces the
purple cake and I wait
as they all disappear
back into their mist. And on this
coffee table stool I wait for a
Pause.