in line at the post office,
wondering what the dreadlocked dude
in front of me fears in his daily life.
does he get anxiety about lost love?
is he nervous about going back to some
place he left behind?
does he dream of a love
that doesn't love him?
waiting patiently to be called
to send my silly postcards
and poetry submissions.
people behind me in line huff and puff,
probably because they have nothing
better to worry about than the lunch breaks
of postal workers messing up their lazy days.
as I buy stamps and send mail via media rate,
I can't help but stand in my current life
and wonder what could have been.
outside in the summer,
I skateboard back to my hiding place,
and wonder how many ants
I killed on the sidewalk.