Minor Inconveniences

“Can you describe this?”
A poet was asked
When she stood amidst queues of suffering?
No. I’m not comparing the two
That was a tragedy
This is a farce
All over the city
Lines of Good citizens,
Like Boxer
No. Again that was a tragedy
This is a farce.
I saw neighbours in the queue
I saw colleagues in the queue
I saw friends in the queue
I saw old men and women in the queue
I saw young boys and girls in the queue
I saw some praying in the queue
Bringing down even God to the queue

I wish I could name those that were not in the queue
You know them well
I wish I heard that someone saw them in a queue
Even if just for a show
Even if just for a while
Come see the queue
Leave before the sun burns you
Or the rain drench you
Or the cold bite you
But come see the queue
Then I will not have to describe it
In lines of repetitive rhymes
Boring you, frustrating you
Like you’re in a queue.