The sun scorched
through the bald
plate glass,
As we were forced
to sit close, share armrests.
One knit
a message
to her unborn
granddaughter: Remember Me
in the loop and purl
of orange yarn.
One young man
was a caught deer;
wide-eyed and muscular.
Tick
the long hand
stuck,
tock
the minute
skipped.
A brew
of lemon grass
and eye-of-newt
bubbled in each of us.
We all bargained—
six goats, a gold necklace,
no smoking.
We eavesdropped
on the receptionist,
who was troubled
by a broken swing set.
Her files piled up
under a lucky horseshoe.
Have you ever made fun
of the weak?
Lied while promising?
Let an old friend fade?
Magazine pages
turned.
We wanted to be
luxury travelers
to Belize, St. Lucia,
Tasmania, Alexandria,
the North Pole, anywhere
but The Chemo Suite
with its porous
dropped ceiling,
millions of tiny black dots.