Poem: Better Than Waiting.

Better Than Waiting

Behind the doors. Behind the curtains,
there is a randomness. Odd things placed
here and there, no understandable pattern.

Someone knows. That’s what they assure us.
Someone knows what is to go where, how
order will show itself,

and we are asked to wait in confidence
in the powers we cannot see.
As if.

I am the impatient type. I dislike disorder.
I will move the parts and pieces, even
if I get them wrong, simply to simplify to impose order

and make something
out of nothing.
And maybe get it right. Or maybe get it wrong.

Either one
is better than waiting.

About this poem.

I have a habit of looking behind closed doors in museums.

I have a habit of doing. I am not the best at waiting.

From those things, this poem.


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