Cocktail Hour

The sun is warming up the Portland skyline

As I rise into the Thursday morning light

People

Getting ready

Ironing boards and coffee grounds

Steaming,

Dripping Hot

Showers and perfumes

First phone calls and engine sputters

A symphony of morning routines -

It is the same as any other day

Cocktails, loose ties, hairclips and makeup

Melting away

This day into the dusk into the dawn

An oblivion of existence

Waiting

For the performance,

For the applause

Waiting

For the next Big Deal.

I am sitting in the coffee shop

And the girl next to me says

'Man I can't wait

For this year to end.'

And then -

What?

Another year of

Waiting -

For the fruit to ripen,

Waiting -

For the blossom to bloom

The man outside puffs on his cigarette

Smoke rising into the blue

Waiting on a bus line

Can he wait -

For this day to end?

For this year to be over?

For the next stop -

To light up again,

And wait . . .