I often joked one could get back
All the time you spent on hold
Or waiting on the runway for
The plane to get something
Inspected now I’ve had to add
The swirling beachball of death
That twirls while a computer
Awaits the next batch of bytes
To be processed as you surf
It was my theory that after
Death one could petition
Authorities at the gates
To recover those bits of
Life you were denied while
Waiting times too short to
Commit anything but virtual
Evil true times one could set
Aside for prayer but often just
Piddled away doing nothing
More than putting your body
On autopilot and letting the
Autonomic nervous system
Take over a while true
These could be moments of
Great moment decisions to
Propose divorce sell that stock
Take the vacation get the car
With the snazzy alloy wheels
Well you could have but didn’t
As you grew ever more pissed
Off that the program didn’t load
The person didn’t answer or
Nowadays when the machine
Finally picks up announces
The memory is full try again
Later those are the times I
Submit could be handled by
A new profession of waiters
People who would wander
The common areas the plazas
Malls foyers hallways like taxis
Whom one could summon with
A whistle look Jack I’m on
Hold here and I can’t hang
Up I’ve tried numerous times
To get through could you
Hang on for me while I go
To the can out for a smoke
Dollar a minute I can do
That but you’ve got to
Grab me when the call
Comes through look at all
The folks not earning anything
Hanging around anyway
What skill does it take to
Be or more be sentient can’t
Quite sleep on this job I
Think restaurants already do
Something like this you talk
To the maitre’d and he gives
You an electronic robot which
Lets you know your table is
Next so you can shop in the
Meantime or get plastered in
The bar so the Grim Reaper
Would offer you can go back
For another eight years two
Months sixteen days twenty three
Minutes fifty five seconds or
You can go to hell right now
c. J.S.Manista, 2015
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