On Waiting as a Virtue or Vice

It is really like this, amigo,

this willful awaiting the coming

of clear clouds from

the cold days when providence

does not come on cue.

We take the free lunch at Virgie's as usual,

order the same half-and-half meal

to save on precious dough and desire

as we live our daily lives,

deep & dark as the Redondo nights

that we count against the days

of numbering what is left of dinners and breakfasts

that will never be reserved for us.

Like the prosaic in the hunger,

there is poetry in writing up of our pain

we now know, the same pain we

have given a name lately.

There is hope in the grey clouds,

still & calm, the hope cool & collected

like the way we all are all the time.

Aurelio S. Agcaoili

Artesia, CA


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