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66 Waiting We sigh and fidget, waiting for the class to end. We nod like therapists, and say “Uh-huh,“ waiting for the nagging to wind down, the battering tongue to punch itself out. We curl in bed waiting for our guts to calm, the chills and headaches to subside. We can’t stand the tension, we decide, and smoke and drink and screw, waiting to see if we get into Law School, bag the Scholarship, drag home the Prize. Waiting to marry and begin our lives. Waiting to know if she’s too hurt to stay, too in love to go. Waiting for quitting time, for results of the biopsy, AIDS test, licensing exam. Waiting for the proctologist to withdraw, the nurse to suck out enough blood. Oh hurry, hurry, we intone. Oh please, oh please. Waiting for Sister to get out of the bathroom. Waiting for our turn at bat; an autumn trout trip; two weeks in Maui. Wondering if the earthquake’s over, or an 8.0 waits, cracking its knuckles in the dark. Waiting to see if the cold sore heals before school pictures; if our metatarsal mends, or we limp all our lives. Waiting for the Picasso show, spring columbines, summer vacation, fall duck hunting, snow and skis, forgetting—Oh hurry, hurry. Please, oh please— what horse we’re spurring toward what finish line. ...

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