Anticipation for the inevitable A rush of adrenaline Coursing through my veins Telling myself I'm okay Lying to steady my heartbeat "Relax, it'll be okay." Yet, such is false For my mind is a minefield A pile of rubble Left to settle the dust Determine the damage Before it's too late And I'm too far gone.
I wait on a little island Marooned in the sea of traffic The grey sky broadcasts sweet outcomes To the farmer in me But the lack of an umbrella Makes my mind jittery I'm vulnerable in my suit, tie and all If the sky should burst open its floodgates Where will I find shelter, with my laptop and phone? Hurry Mr. Driver Spur on that staff bus!
Glenarah and Robert Mugabe roads intersection in Harare
I wander our old lives, I take the train I always took to see you, I pass the pancake place we never went because it was always too busy at brunch time, and the teriyaki place we went instead that was surprisingly good considering it's emptiness.
I see the Kia dealership I waited in front of, not knowing you were waiting for me a block away on a charming main street.
I see the Mexican treats place where we got deliciously odd flavored paletas, and the pirate golf where we ate mediocre pizza and giggled at cheesy glow-in-the-dark pirates.
But you are not here. You do not greet me at the transit center.
While I revisit old memories, you are exploring our future. You are walking streets we may walk together. Perhaps you are passing restaurants that will become our favorites, a park where a momentous decision will be made, the locations of disappointments and joys yet to come.
Despite the traffic and obvious signs of habitation surrounding me, this place is a ghost town to me. It's not for me anymore.
My present is a limbo between nostalgia and anticipation. My future is with you. I'll join you soon.
Anticipation keeps pulsing at me When I want something to be The surge of excitement is like a drug I keep wanting it, like a mug
The next job or party event The next high or personal descent The next meeting or social entity The next considered expected positivity
The event goes by It really did fly Anticipation fades The outcome rarely makes the grade
Of all the emotions 'anticipation' is my favourite. Think about it if we didn't have anticipation what a poor world we would be in? "rarely makes the grade" refers to the outcome of an event never living up to the hype of the anticipation.