we positioned ourselves in another waiting room
a stack of magazines on a chair
a book with a magic marker that would reveal puzzle answers
but I’d lost interest.
I’d found myself
back towards a quiet television
examining the walls
The hung art was dull enough that
the groves in an exposed brick wall were more interesting.
as I ran my hands over the brick
my mind wandered to memories of my grandfather
standing in front of me in our living room
I’d been set on a high chair
with a red barbers apron around my neck
ogling the monster or hero he’d brought with him
(though he need not truly have done so)
to consider only the possibilities of a world
where monsters could be vanquished
with the swing of a sword
and nothing so insidious as time
could ever enter the tale.