In the queue

 The tax office was dark.
There were two couples in the line seated and anxious.
I sat down after them. I read their anxieties. Their rehearsed outrage or contempt.
The floor was marked by a million shoe prints.
We are just the next scratches...

Just the next stamps and signatures.
The tested patience. The next raised brows.
I had locked my bike onto the handrail. I left it as I went to the collections office to pay two months owing.
A couple was aguing infront of the whole room. Their abrasive loud voices full of thick indignation.
The years had taken their toll on the walls and ceilings.
I wondered how so many angry voices had radiated through the space.

And yet it was beautiful, not ugly, not marred. Even the imperfections filled me with joy.
Because for the first time in my life I wasn't in a rush.