Waiting

Hustle and bustle

sirens, brakes squeal, horns blast screaming for movement

sirens, louder, louder, howling, crying, shrieking

my heart races, my ears burn

until

it passes and the wailing quickly fades away.

The cars keep passing

a continous cycle of stop and go

otorbikes weaving in and out, narrowly missing side mirros.

My eyes brighten as the sun peaks out from behind the clouds.

People walking

an woman slowly trudges along,

her shawl covers her hunched shoulders,

as she carefully places her cane.

A girl skips, her ponytail bouncing and hand held tightly by her mom

a man in a suit quickly ambles away,

clutching his umbrella, just in case.

Students are weighed down by heavy packs,

striding to the pace of the music in their ears.

The wind picks up and I reach for my jacket,

the sky grey once again.

My eyes search across the street,

beyond the blooming purple and red flowers

looking as the new faces pass by

when suddenly a glass with a straw is set in front of me.

Fresh, cool, sweet mango bursts with flavor across my tongue.

My fried empanada steams and sweats on its napkin.

I reach for the bowl of aji,

taking a spoonful to place on my meal, happy to add some spice.

I set down my pen and pick up my meal.

The waiting is over, it's time for lunch.