Waiting Room

I wait in a waiting room
waiting
across from me a modestly dressed woman
dark skin, blue scarf over tightly curled black hair
she holds a sleeping boy,
and I wonder what
they are waiting for
what procedure or percentage
awaits them
insured or uninsured?
urgent or elective?
and does she wonder why
I am waiting?

the Botox brochures
and photos of smiling white faces
glossy perfection
perfect, perfectly fake
wait with us

I'm not waiting here for Botox, I want to say
as I fill out the paperwork
it's this little bump, I don't say
running my index finger to my cheek
just getting it checked, I could say
in case, you know?
probably nothing

but I say nothing and wait

this is, after all, not a talking room
this is a waiting room
and small talk seems plastic here



[Poem #23 for National Poetry Month.]