Waiting
by Clara Hsu


I look for you
among the pedestrians,
and idle in
the café which you frequent.

But no matter how
slowly I sip my coffee
and nibble at my sandwich
you are not to pass by
and discover that
I am waiting
on this slightly rainy day
when grayness dominates
the skyline
and the vast internal space.

My cup is empty,
my plate has few crumbs.
I am to carry my wanting
to the street, to the car,
to the place I work,
to the house
I sleep and wake.






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