She scuttles in,
Rocking from one leg
To the next,
Like a child’s toy
Wound up in the back
With a crankshaft.
Step, step, step, step.
“He could
Have dropped you off
At the front door.”
“No, it’s alright.
I need the exercise.”
Her voice pierces the air with
The shrill tones of a high strung
Violin.
You live a little while
And then you die.
“The 29th already?”
“I know. Where has
March gone?”
“The same place as
January and February.”
The words fell
Out of a jar of molasses.
Her cough disturbs the
Dead air of the lobby.
Spring has not yet
Cleared the clouds,
And every last drop
Of daylight is choked in the
Tint on the windows.
You live a little while
And then you die.
“I’m going to a gender reveal party!”
“I think it is rude of them
To keep it secret from you.”
“Well, they didn’t know until yesterday
Themselves.”
The hands on the clock
Replace their voices in silence...
Tick. Tick. Tick. TICK.
“Off to Indiana.”
You live a little while
And then you die.