Scribbles from the waiting room (poetry)
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I stayed in the hospital after hours
Picked their petals and pressed their petals
With heads cupped as pistols
For the cleaners sipping coffee
As those breathing in the waiting room
So they sit and follow the second hand
Mixed with pennies the goldfish taste
That isn’t lost under halogen lights
Adding half moons to palms
And blossom to roses. Shed their skin
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