Waiting

Educated he was but like a sharp line of knowledge
not a broad stroke of understanding.
He saw the world through a narrow slot of perception.
People fit into the edge of his paper in awkward poses,
uncomfortable to them and to him
as they squirmed to be polite while wincing.
A life spent hating, resenting, waiting
for the day he could retire watching his frozen love in the morning.
And now he is there. Watching, only watching, not touching,
lonelier than ever but still not wondering what went wrong,
still uncomfortable, in yet another awkward pose.

 

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