some kind of alien operation
the intensity is high in these
surroundings
but I play it cool by taking drugs
designed to keep
my blood pressure in check
I’m not supposed to be here
I tell them
but they process me nonetheless
handing out one of those
restaurant beepers that flashes red
when my table is ready
the longer I’m here the more attention
I seem to get
and when I tell them a second time
there’s been a mistake
they chortle and nod and strap me in
april two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
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