I hate when I am on my way
and something or someone
stops me for a second.
I want to move but words,
a mistake, or policy that seems
so extreme at the time,
forces me still, like
chains on a chair,
on my wrists and feet,
I just need to move.
My mind races
and my heart rate
speeds up. I am
angry as I wait
in line at this bank
where there is no skipping,
no damn t.v., but a compact
disc playing classical music
as though I have
a world's time to relax,
while four of the
four tellers present
are taking us
one by one,
very
slowly.
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