He’s been staring at the wall for twenty minutes now

He’s been staring at the wall for twenty minutes now,

while the clerk moves like she’s underwater.

I’m watching the clock and wiping my brow,

trying to find a way to make the time shorter.

There’s a tattoo on his neck, a blurred blue line,

half-hidden by a stray coil of gray.

It looks like a secret he left behind,

resting on his flannel in a careless way.