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by Janet Hanna

For what exactly am I waiting?
The grocery line to hurry
The tiny age lines around my mouth to harden
The friend who doesn’t return a call
An enemy to soften
The finality of Armageddon
My clothes to dry
Justice, perhaps, even world peace
The heat to come on
A Summer vacation
My child to be grateful
The coffee to perk.
My mother’s approval,
I used to think,
Was worth the wait.

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