lotus eaters poems (again)

I was sitting the other evening in our GP's waiting room. I had some prescriptions to renew, and this is the drill: I call his office; the receptionist gives me an appointment; they call a few days later to change the appointment; I arrive a few minutes early, ask if there is a long wait, am told there is not; an hour and change later I am still waiting, but I have accomplished something: I brought my pen and notepad and have written sketches of "lotus eaters 7" as well as 8, 9, and 10, and notes for several other poems.

I don't know what it is about doctors' offices. I can write volumes of stuff there. Maybe it is the slim chance of being interrupted that propels me. Anyway, "lotus eaters 8" came out of hearing the receptionist and somebody else speaking just below the range of my comprehension while an office radio tuned to the local schlock station was grinding out commercial-laden radio, also, just below the level of comprehension, if there is anything to be comprehended there. We usually have CBC One playing at our house, well out of the range of my office. The only sound I have here is the ventilation fan and the occasional rumble of traffic on the street, which is on the main downtown thoroughfare in the heart of this "big city" of forty-five thousand.

Back to the poems. They seem to be turning to subtleties -- that may render them less attractive; however, they are just sketches preliminary to a larger work that may be one poem; hence the sometimes obscure nature of these pieces.