Well, I'm consumed with wait and worry, so while I'm waiting and worrying here's a poem from me and Mario:
Mario Infirme Says Wait.
He inhales his Pall Mall and holds it for what seems like hours.
He lets the smoke out slow.
He smiles just a little, he reaches into his pocket, removes his wallet
and opens it.
How long did that take?
I don’t know, a minute?
He says, I could have taken longer and the same thing would have happened.
Wait for the bartender.
He knows you’re here.
He’ll be down this way eventually.
He’ll mix your drink and place it in front of you.
Wait for your son to walk across the room.
Watch him wobble and lurch.
He’s about to fall.
His sudden rush sends him the last few feet into your arms.
Put your head deep in the crook of his neck and breathe.
Wait for the smells to rise from his skin.
Breathe them in and wait.
Wait for your wife to come.
Watch her shudder waves of pleasure or is it terror.
Wait for the boss to bring you your check.
Wait for the rain to reach you from across the bay.
Think of that scene in the Renoir movie where the rain moves across the water.
Think how long he waited for that to happen.
Think how it might never have happened if he hadn’t waited.
What would come to you if you’d only waited.
What have you lost by rushing?
Wait to hear what your lover is saying. Don’t start talking before they’re done.
He’s saying he wants you more than life.
If you talk before he says it you’ll never know the truth.
Wait for the truth.
Wait for things to happen.
They always do.
Wait to find out what they are when they do happen.
Wait for all the surprises that are just out of your grasp.
Wait for someone else to pick up the check.
Wait for the newspaper.
Wait for the bus.
Wait for your son to be born.
Wait for your father to die.
Wait for all the things you’re afraid of and wait for all the things you want.
There’s plenty of time for action.
For now just enjoy this drink, this quiet conversation, this soft music,
this oak bar, this cigarette.
It will all be over soon enough.