To Three From Four

Tired of the coolness of the wood paneling / of the strategically-placed Kleenex boxes / of the symmetrical bowling-pin displays of bottled water which, no matter the state of your parching, you’re hesitant to disturb / of the smell of drugstore cologne and just-permed hair and mothballs and emptiness / of shaking the hands or hugging the forms of the grieving / of memories shared / of memories kept / of time taken for granted / of breath wasted / of letting my life pass me by / of lessons un...