I wait in a line that seems endless
I look ahead only to see that the others are doing the same
The ground beneath my feet is marble, white with a blue shimmer,
Above me resembles that of a wood celling in a log cabin,
Behind me I meet the eyes of another waiter,
He quickly stands straight only to reveal another pair of eyes behind him,
There is a sound un recognizable in the distance and the line moves,
Though only a step, a sigh of relief, for there is much distance to travel,
The light comes and goes, with no observable source of light,
Looking right I see another step out of line,
Standing taller then the rest he heads my direction,
I ask as he passes "what do you see ahead of this line?"
He stares blankly then looks over the heads,
"Do you want the truth?" he asks,
I nod noticing that my personal space has grown smaller,
He points forwards then backwards and says,
"That is where you are going, and that is where you've been,"
"So at some point you'll reach where you're going?"
My space bubble expands with a hushed whimper,
It comes to mind that I should ask him one more question,
"Where are you headed then?"
He smiles, his teeth almost all gone,
"Why wait to know what I already can see"
"I plan to skip this line and find a new one on my own"
He waves as we part his tall figure an outline in the distance,
The line moves though I find myself still standing,
I am tapped on the shoulder and hear "May i skip you?"
I step aside no longer compliant with staying in line.

Rift rafters fall for the love of their sinister lives that continue long after the setting sun,

Breathers lay out their arms welcoming peace with a deadly knife,

Sought after visions lie but for a just cause,

Simple villains turn tides when truth proved to be theirs to gloat,

Lips of curves softly calling for the ears of new found kings,

Lofting lost but on the path that was sought when no path was given,

Crain the neck to see what is alreadyinfront of you,

Suggested laughs at the subtle sight that was born from the head of a baby,

A free fairing fan fiction frantically falling for free franks from Fredrick's farm facility featured February Fifth,

A test to the cure that causes our noses to run amuck,

Fidget in our seats when words of conversation repeated for few sentences know their bounds,

A long lost rambling mind, tastes silver in the blood of night

Shall we sit, laugh and banter,
Discuss our every desire,
In an atmosphere on love and compassion,

You order bitter, and I go for smooth,
The waiter suggests the fries,
We accept the tater-tots,

We make work of our meal,
Beer washing down our mouths,
Forks stabbing at wandering hands,

Clearing the table, a brief contact is made,
Silence falls quickly,
An our eyes catch the waiters,

"One more round of drinks for two?"