A Chinese man watches the clock
and makes a few phone calls
Some foreigners speak in broken English
asking for an interpreter
The smell of coffee cascades through the air
from the corner shop
Announcements in a female voice
to call the next customer
Strangers everywhere
A mother feeds her baby as another man
glances at his journal
People walking by pass
each other like ships at sail
Mixed tones of chatter as clerks
listen to woes
The information line is out the door
as people ask for help
Arguments are heard as
tempers seem to flare
I've been here since the dawn
and waited in the cold
Three hours have since passed
"Now serving" is what you hear and
then my number's called
It's my turn at last,
but I am in the wrong line
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(c)2002 Nomadic Words