roll to a stop behind twenty other cars

waiting for the flagman to let you proceed

lean your head on your hand

fuming about construction zones

power outages doctors' waiting rooms

where overhead clocks tick to show you

your appointment was fifteen minutes

twenty-five minutes forty minutes ago

objecting your life away

dreaming of being somewhere else

mumbling get on with it

fidgeting fingers tapping foot

get on with what when you roll to a halt

twenty cars between you and the flagman

get on with what when you are thrust

into forty-eight hours of darkness

when the waiting room clock clicks

to tell you the doctor is one hour late

get on with life you say but what about

life in all those non-moments

does it seep into another reality

freeze like a stored embryo does it die

then come back to life when the flagman

turns his sign from stop to slow

when the lights come on

when the receptionist calls your name

get on with life you say

these non-moments are a nuisance

we should do away with them you say

then life speaks

what you call non-moments

are presents of presence

By Ellen Dooling Reynard

From: United States