Bored Now

Mood: Patient
Drinking: Snappley juice

i’m waiting for the perfect question.
The one that will turn all the tumblers
and set your secrets free.

i’m waiting for a sidewalk stranger
to scream my name from across the street.
i’m waiting for a warm rain.

i’m waiting for the darkness to get domesticated.
To lose its teeth. Velvet its paws.
i’m waiting for a window to open into an entirely new world.
i’m waiting for her to find her own bootstraps and give them a tug.
i’m waiting for the apocalypse to arrive with a blinding flash, with a roar.
(i expect it to come from behind.)

i’m waiting for my pen to stop bleeding.
i’m waiting for a subtle knife.
i’m waiting for that geriatric smell,
for the sudden onslaught of age spots, curlers
and paper skin.

i’m waiting for him
to send a long, hard look in my general direction.
i’m waiting for the sleeping pills to fail.
i’m waiting for this, too, to pass.

i’m waiting for her to stop talking.

(i’ve been waiting for quite awhile.)
i’m waiting for a train that runs beneath the ocean.
fish will fly by the windows
and deep sea divers will stare.
and we’ll reach out and grab strands
of greenish-blue kelp to wind in our hair.

i’m waiting for permission to scream.
i’m waiting for proof of spontaneous combustion.
i’m waiting for the wind to blow me over. i’ll know, then, that I am thin enough.

i’m waiting for the phone to ring with voices from beyond the grave.

i’m waiting for him to come on strong.
i’m waiting for an occasion with a dress code.
An excuse for tulle and a tiara.
i’m waiting for a microphone that’s just the right height.
i’m waiting for them to start playing my song.

i’m waiting for the voices in my head to say something nice.
i’m waiting for the right time to tell you it’s all gone horribly wrong.

i’m waiting for the medication to kick in.

i’m waiting for him to give me a reason to stay for the encore.
i’m waiting for her to blink so I can finally make my escape.
i’m waiting for a slow, slow death.

i’m waiting for the paint to dry so I can peel it off my nails.
i’m waiting for flu season to live up to the hype.
i’m waiting for fair play to turn about, already.

i’m waiting for the oxygen mask to drop
so I can show my rebel colors
and put yours on first.

i’m waiting for tall black boots with just the right amount of swagger.
i’m waiting for more men to start wearing makeup.
i’m waiting for her to make good on the threats.

i’m waiting for the Christians to say they were wrong.
(i’m waiting for icicles in hell.)

i’m waiting for my state to secede from the union.
i’m waiting for the Big One.

i’m waiting for my so-called-life to get an NC-17.
i’m waiting for the sun to burn out altogether.
i’m waiting for a crime of passion.

i’m waiting for him to give me a reason to give a shit.
i’m waiting for the pop stars to die off.
i’m waiting for her to make a mistake.

i’m waiting for inspiration to strike me dead.
(She’s always running late and forgetting the lightning bolts.)

i’m waiting for a mission to mars,
a ride to the moon,
an entirely uneventful spacewalk.

i’m waiting for him to admit that he did it.
i’m waiting for something to hold on to.
i’m waiting for the reunion tour so I can see just how fat she is in real life.
i’m waiting for shock treatment to come back in vogue.

i’m waiting for a ghost to materialize.

i’m waiting for the endorphins or amphetamines or
whatever will make this all worthwhile.
i’m waiting for it all to go on sale.
i’m waiting for my dog to speak.

i’m waiting for a burning bush.
i’ll also take a still, small voice.
a cloud, a dove.
Some kind of sign that’s sent from above.

i’m waiting for my eyesight to fail me completely while turning left at the light.
i’m waiting for the flavor of the month to be mine.
i’m waiting for reality to get less entertaining.
i’m waiting for her 15 minutes to finally expire.
i’m waiting for Jesus to get interesting again.
i’m waiting to get contagious.

i’m waiting for the final bell to toll so I can gather my skirts and run for the door.
i’m waiting for a confession of depression that has a happy ending.
i’m waiting for the check to clear the room.

i’m waiting for the bittersweet
to get a bit sweeter.

i’m waiting for the afterglow
to burn brighter.

i’m waiting for the dark horse
to lighten up.

i’m waiting for you to get the joke.

(This could take awhile…)

-Lo, who gets so very bored during long, pointless meetings.