time steps with the disaffection of an incurious tourist
in this space we’ve been wrapped in.
this life that’s been stretched on us
has been taking us for granted,
this life that’s been inflicted on us
has been giving us too little air.
we’re the fatigued and unimpressed
lying on the floor in a lobby
that has long ago grown weary of us.
even the walls mock our useless chatter
with their unflattering echoes.
from this point there is no hint of novelty,
no place for curiosity, only tenuous doors
that will close and open and close
until the day when, tired of the uncaring act of waiting,
we will have left behind
the hostile coats, the burdensome shoes, the panic
and, without knowing it,
we will have finally arrived
inside.
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