Call Us Impatient If You Will

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CALL US IMPATIENT IF YOU WILL


The pressing question being when, 

You surely understand our aggravation

with the faceless ambiguity of wait,


our ingrained tendency to pitch a fit 

and make a mess about the place

in the endless interim. Imagine this: 


a toddler dons his swimming trunks

and grabs a float to ask his father when

they’re leaving (as was promised him)


for the neighbor's pool. If, per se, 

the father were to simply tell him wait, 

were then to disappear upstairs without


any further indication as to when

the wait would terminate, it wouldn’t 

be surprising if the child were to fill up 


the kitchen sink in a provisional attempt

to entertain himself, proceed to flood

it accidentally because he doesn’t 


know any better—he is, after all, just

a child—and then to yell out Dad!

right when it's all

                             high water and hell.


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