In Line

by J. K. Durick         

I’ve stood in this line so long – for hours, seems like days,
Perhaps my whole life – I’m a part, a piece of it.
If we were a chain, I’d be a link. If we were a mile I’d be
A dozen feet or so of this measure of time, of distance.

If spied from space we’d be a careful brush stroke,
A string stretched out, almost taut, almost ready to break.

I’ve stood in this line so long – one in front, one behind,
Then another one in front of that one and one behind,
On and on, sometimes in alphabetical order, sometimes
By height, and then sometimes, like right now, by seniority.

We look straight ahead; rarely talk anymore, the talk once
Helped a bit, but now we shuffle our feet and feel restless.