Choice

A time like this is not a time to read
A magazine
Like People magazine, but sitting here,
Alone, unclear
What happens next for us, these pictures give
Some hope to live
Beyond this yellow-papered waiting room.
She'll be done soon.

Above the pages of celebrities,
I see candy
In a bowl beside a bowl of condoms.
It's so much fun:
Like Halloween as kids can grab the treats
They want and need.
The kid across the way from me gets up
For Reese's Cups
And sits back down across the way amid
The other kids
And me. She could be here for family care,
But I'm aware:
A candy in hand and a sad face
Mean a bad place.

How can a windowed blue line be so curved
To make us swerve
In different directions? We walked the same--
And now unable
To sync our steps, I came here since the choice
Left my dads' voice
For her moms' womb. It's not that she's evil,
She simply fell
The opposite way off the line than I.
She's "girl," I'm "guy."

My selfish hope: the nurse would call her name
Again, again,
And give the chance to walk away concealed--
Aborting the deal--
But the nurse at the desk who took the forms
Opened the door,
And said, "Your turn," and pointed to her womb.
She'll be out soon.