The waiting game.
I slouch in my bucket Seat.
I listen to Michael's wanna be Starting something on ninety-five.
I'm glad I went for the dinner, and I believe its all self induced.
I notice the stacks of tomorrow's papers piling really high up.
An unoccupied taxi passes by.
My rear window's fogging up.
29 July
I look at the passer bys
The ferry's rumbling from afar
Someone's nokia rang a tune
The distant clouds are getting darker
I sit and wait
I sit and wait
