171. Waiting Room

I try to stay patient in the hard plastic chair
as the air conditioner blows too strongly
and I finish the articles I brought along.

The people flow into the waiting room
like they only want to watch the cartoon
and read through the piles of magazines
that promote beauty products, home advice,
and the easiest way to fix all life's problems.

Then they leave.

And the grandfather clock in my head
keeps ticking and chiming every 15 minutes
that the doctor doesn't appear like a mirage
full of promises that cannot be real.

I stay in the plastic chair, anxious for my name
and clinging to the thought that maybe,
he's running late because he had to save
someone without any notice or maybe he needed
more time to find the problem and ease their pain.

Maybe he can do that for me too.