Poem:

There are lines of people everywhere,

Standing and waiting to be served,

Long and short and here and there

Crooked ones, broken, curved -

Lines of people that must spare

Little patience, unreserved.

I look beyond the literal stage

Of lines as physical as these,

Contemplate the lines of age

In numbers that will never cease,

Where those behind are full of rage

And those ahead are ill at ease.