like bathing, all of this waiting
stillness, silence
a pin submerged in water

or a wide-eyed boy scanning the sidewalks for his father
groping the dark

an abstract art

the effortlessness in the breaking of this vase
fine wrinkles in its maker’s hands, deep creases in his face
his pain disintegrates
a million pieces on linoleum 

that beautiful vase.

silence,
golden
then suddenly
broken
becoming a chorus
of chaos and moaning

this waiting,
this hayride
my swollen balloon

it’s lifetime is numbered
in pieces of you.

When I finally meet you the pain of the past will dissipate
It will not be displayed as it is no longer visible
Cloaked by the warmth of your embrace

Patience is a slippery *****
As if it is the very sand inside an hourglass
It becomes thin and runs out

Don't worry though,
Just as an hourglass my patience too resets
However with every reset I become a little more hopeless

So please, shatter my hourglass and stay with me as we count into infinite
While the idea of time running out becomes a faded memory
Let us stay forever within our own time here in eternity

I need to work on my patience
traffic brings out the worst in me and waiting in line makes my hands shake
but for you
for you I'd wait ten lifetimes
it is perfectly fine that I do not consume all of your thoughts
I think mine are enough for the both of us

My buddy the quarterback said to go long
music to my ears the chorus of my song
I could easily outrun all the puny secondary –
the guys from one block over on wealthy Dewberry.
We were all better at football on Lillian Street  
beating the crap out of those guys was oh so sweet.

Now mulling my interests, passions and such
I wonder why I love football so much
what with a life of writing, thinking and teaching
my football mania seems a tad overreaching
but still my arm flexes watching that heaver
connect in a perfect arch with his swift receiver.

Being Cajun in Texas where sports are king
probably explains something of why I’m so keen
and my pulse quickens as I remember
the neighbor boys’ shouts and calls in September
to meet them in our favorite autumn spot
down the street in that vacant lot.

Most of my life I’ve gone for short passes
connected with ideas and English classes
no novel for me, I fell for poetry
nor did I brave the rigor of a PhD.
Now finally, with my scores of years its not so wrong
to watch, leave it alone, wait a while, and go long.

waiting for the clouds to pass
waiting for a tree to grow
waiting for the doubt to shrink
waiting for the day I'll know
waiting for life to begin
waiting for the sky to turn blue
waiting until the end of time
because I said I'd always wait for you

Do the roots of tomorrow
ever grow in delay?
Worry not if the
Flower
Will bloom in a day