and wait,
nodding when needed
as she tells me
all her troubles.
mostly first world problems.
she tells me about
the coffee machine at work,
her parents,
her dog,
her broken nail,
shoes that are on back order,
and her ungrateful
children,
she rolls her eyes and tells me
how she can't get an
appointment to get the grey
out of her hair.
she's a month over due on
her botox treatment.
she hasn't had a massage in
over a week
and her therapist is booked
solid until Christmas.
at last it's my turn
and for the life of me
i can't think
of anything at the moment,
except that i'm dangerously low
on vodka and limes.
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