I am standing in a line to buy the groceries with which
I will make you dinner, in a line of women
holding produce and meat and beer and eggs, waiting.
I am standing in a line, I am waiting for
a bus, I am on hold with the bank, I am waiting
to complete the next task that keeps our
household afloat. I am waiting for the loan officer
to call me back, I am waiting for the neighbor to return
my rake, I am waiting for the landlord to
process the check, I am waiting for the cable guy.
I am politely letting someone with a shorter errand
skip me in the line, I am exchanging knowing
glances with other women whose children grow
restless on anonymous linoleum floors. I am
making small talk with the woman behind me
about the weather, I am asking how the
cashier’s day is going, I am holding the purse
of your grandma so she can use both hands
to get up out of the waiting room chair. I
am a woman standing in a line, waiting.