The Dead

I’ll sit here and
Wait
The quiet earth turns in its sleep
And mountains fall into the sea
There is nothing else but
Waiting
Waiting
As History shook her tired head
I spoke with a man who was already dead
Through yellow clouds of nicotine
He waved dismissive hands at me
You don’t know that you’re nothing
I don’t like words that talk of pain
And I’m really only waiting
But it feels like
Something