Restless

I wait
gold.

It is the role
I know best.

Endure the calm composure
of two o’clock sunshine.

I am crippled
by repetition;
the mundane routine
of daily circus.

It pinches nerves
numb since childhood.
The evening promises
chains of redundancy.

I wait
victim.

In truth,
I have lost interest in
sleep on sunny afternoons.

I wait
reckless.

I would rather raise
arms overhead,
bully up a mountain trail,
spin on bar stools.

Somewhere in the afternoon
sunshine I have
lost the patience
I am known for;
my persistent virtue.

I wait
to give up,
to be free.

I wait
restless.

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