Tick, Tick, Tick

The light is red, and my mind is not so idle
as my car is forced to be.
Roads, slick with ice
and sun
carve the path to home- my envisioned peace.

8, 7, 6, 5,
the seconds just are crawling by
as rusted, I'm forced to watch
last night's ravioli
rotate slowly under the spotlight.

My hurried hand is thrust into the arctic mist
as back and forth,
my toes take turns touching the tiles
of the bathroom floor-
wishing the warmth would come sooner.

But it's never soon enough.

Reviews

[Natasha]

I like the anticipation of this poem. The last line really ties it all in. I'm honestly trying to figure out what exactly this poem is about. I've read it a ton of times and still can't figure out a for sure answer. "last night's ravioli rotate slowly under the spotlight" is for some reason my favorite line- maybe because it's so unexpected.

[Chase]

This poem is about impatience and being forced to wait for things on a daily basis when we live in a world that screams for instant gratification.