trapped inside

you take a number
and sit.
your paperwork in hand.
the plastic chairs
are in rows
ten deep.
there is no talking,
just the shuffling
of shoes,
boots, heels, sandaled
feet.
it's early in the morning,
the loud speaker
repeats another
number, not yours,
not even close.
people stare into
their phones, tapping
out messages waiting.
waiting their turn,
to explain
as best they can
why they are here,
trapped inside the dmv.