I arrive and take my place
in a line that’s growing longer
by the minute.
We all seem to be hopeful
despite the odds.
Coming out in record numbers this week.
Small talk buzzes around me,
“This weather is something isn’t it?
Unseasonably warm.”
A pregnant woman in line has
an impatient toddler by her side.
“Mama! Tengo hambre!”
She tells him to stop whining.
That this is important.
That they’ll eat when they get home.
The sun has already gone down.
It’s not yet 6 o’clock.
“Folks in DC need to figure out this time change stuff.”
Nods of agreement.
Followed by “mmmhmms” and
“oh, yeses.”
The older man in front of me counts the few bills inside his wallet.
One drops to the ground.
I pick it up for him.
He says thank you and notices the “I voted” sticker on my t-shirt.
“You voted. That’s good.”
He smiles.
I smile back and conversationally ask if he
voted, too.
“Oh no. I only have time for one line today. This one might change my life.”
He hands the cashier a handful of dollars.
She hands him a
Powerball ticket in return.
We all seem to be hopeful
despite the odds.
And the line grows longer still.