a 'washed-up' world

i stood there waiting for you, couldn't help but notice the lovely people. who would have thought the world could be found in a woman's washroom? yet there they were; of all races and statures, ages and 'classes.' one tiny woman walked with a soft tread, smiled gently, laughed; another bowed over, followed by her shrunken daughter, both wrinkled up by floods of rejection; a blond mom and her two daughters came in, nearly clinging to each other, afraid of what the bathroom held for them; another little girl in oversized glasses and a light step reminded me of myself in my bookworm, hair-gelled days. ahh, to read a book. to find the time. instead i'm standing here in a cinema washrom reading the stories of people's lives, scribbled across their faces.