Waiting for Godot,
for that one perfect moment
when every part is in place and the wheels
spin on down the highway, never hesitating.
Waiting for a cloud to drop under
and carry me, a cushion of air.
And while I wait, I hustle a sometimes living,
give and take where I can, ’cause that’s the
game that’s happening in this sector of continuum.
Station, platform to play out social drama
while forces gather.
Take a ticket; peruse your magazine.
It’s a stage for imagination, until you’re ready
to make it real.