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Waiting for a Sign 2010 Janet Kuypers (poetry converted to prose)     I have been waiting... Sitting in suburban subdivisions, like shared cemeteries, waiting for a sign.     Is that your voice resonating through the air, or is that just your heat? I can see those waving lines of heat like the burning rays of the sun. Sine, cosine. Up and down, back and forth, arcing, curling I can see those waves like heat waves from the sun nurn though me.     Is this what you do to me? I second-guess myself while I wait.     I drive down the road, see old jalopy cars, rusted dinosaurs on the roadside. I see huge pick-up trucks with added exhaust pipes sticking out of the top of their cab (I try not to think of these men with tractor trailer fetishes)...     And every time we pass a cemetery in some foreign town, I think of a real estate agent trying to sell you a home: you’re in some foreign town, but look around this beautiful town... see all the town’s amenities. But every time we pass a cemetery I think, “Here is where we bury our dead”...     So now I stand here... We spin on our axis over a thousand miles an hour. We revolve around the sun Sixty-seven thousand miles an hour. Our planet is spiraling through space at six hundred thousand miles an hour. Everything is spinning around me, and I stand here, observing the world... Feeling like I know less and less about more and more.     My head is spinning, and I’m waiting.     Though I don’t know what I’m waiting for. Also look for thie writing in the poetry section of the Janet Kuypers poetry vaults, to see this writing with different line breaks. Copyright © 2010 Janet Kuypers. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission.