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The Waiting


I'm waiting for something real.
I've been waiting for something real
All my life.
I light a cigarette
In the open air.
Hoping the wind chases the smoke away.
I feel the prick of a burn
That says;
This happened yesterday.
You stood on the same steps.
The same crossed legs.
Head back against the wall of
the old house on fifth street.
Surveying nature.
Separate from moving things.
Who are you to me?
Are you a ghost
Sensuos and stubborn.
Smoothing your invisible skin,
Along the cracks in my aged
Flesh,
Are you the dream
I made love to last night,
The dream I cried
And scrunched in the sweaty
Palms of my fist.
A far away dong sounds
In a distant world.
Time stands still for no one.
Yet she is limitless and endless,
And doesn't procrastinate.
If that makes sense.
I'm waiting for something
Real,
I've been waiting all my life,
The early morning blue arises,
And I wait,
Sourly,
Agedly once again.

Written by Otatade Iseghohi Okojie

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