One woman has her knitting--
looks like a mitten. Another guy,
less prepared, leafs through
a magazine about fishing.
Must be three characters with
their smart-phones out, texting,
surfing, answering emails. All
pretty standard—until a man
comes in with a suitcase, signs
at the desk, and unpacks
tennis balls, a funny hat.
He juggles while waiting. He’s good.
Several other people become
clap at the right times, cheer
the juggler on. One young man
looks around, then steps out
into the hall. The rest of us
keep knitting, juggling, reading.
More people arrive. Then the guy
who stepped out comes back
with a box of fruit, and chocolate.
He sets up a little shop along
the back wall, selling his goods.
A few individuals try out being
customers—even the juggler
takes a break and buys a candy bar.
The waiting room becomes lively.
Two sisters start a little newsletter,
circulated every hour, to inform
new arrivals about what’s going on.
The shop keeper and the juggler
take out ads. Visitors begin offering
massage, counseling, used shoes.
There’s a yoga class at half past.
A team of carpenters knocks out
a wall to double the space. There is
some pressure to form government
but no one falls for that. People
coming and going. Most of us
have forgotten why we’re here.
Someone will call for us,
one by one.