The Waiting Room

The receptionist at Medical Imaging
tells the man in the wheelchair
to have a seat
I look around to see
If anyone has noticed
the redundancy of that instruction
but they’re all on their phones
plucking messages from the ether.

The waiting room is brightly decorated,
I pass the time by giving names to the colours
Monday Custard yellow
Remains of The Rain Forest green.

Life is a waiting room

Man, that’s deep!
I should stop reading that Dan Brown novel.

I reflect on the spread of the literal
there’s a cafe on Broadway called “Provisions”
elsewhere there’s a bar called Brown’s Social House
there’s a restaurant called The Eatery.
Next they’ll be putting signs on park benches
saying “Place Where People Sit”.

But just when I think that irony is dead
the NRA, having learnt that the innocent man
executed by ICE agents in Minneapolis
was carrying a concealed weapon,
feels obliged to point out that this is not an offence
that warrants execution.
It is the God given right of every American to carry a weapon.
They fail to mention that peaceful protest
is also not an offence that warrants execution.

The receptionist calls the guy in the wheelchair.

Time moves slowly in the waiting room
outside the world is moving in fast forward.

Taking part in Open Link over at dverse