Something About Waiting

Still waiting for my Coronavirus relief payment

from the Treasury.

Waiting to hear from the publisher on my latest

submission.

Although I’m in no hurry, waiting for the day

I expire.

I waited for seventy-three long years to get here,

and I pulled into the station lame.

No one but me to blame, kept breathing on a

regular basis. Took my medication as directed.

Opened my eyes every morning on time; ate and

moved my bowels with a measure of regularity.

Drove with my seat belt on; suspicious of those

armed with guns. Picked on people my own size.

Drank too much booze occasionally; still puff on

the noxious weed a dozen times a day.

My Pop used to say he was waiting for his ship to

come in. And when it did, he should have waited

until it unloaded. Instead he boarded the damn

thing and sailed away. Haven’t heard hide nor hair

from good old Pops since then. Still waiting. Say,

is that a herd of cattle over there headed this way?

                         -30-

Chris Hanch 4-17-2020