Poetry

Where's Waldo

I have found Waldo.

He as lurking between a gaggle of warty closet-monsters

And a flashing ag showcasing Armageddon

In Grand Central Station.

He looked quite distressed with

His red and white stripped long-sleeve rumpled and

Black thick-rimmed glasses askew on his nose,

And I must admit to my surprise at finding him because

I wasn't searching in the first place.

Rather, I was drinking a lukewarm chai tea latte and

Waiting for someone who might not even show—

My father who ran away with his secretary

When I was fourteen.

And low and behold, as I'm turning to leave,

I catch a glimpse of Waldo waiving

At me from the corner of my eye.

I kept walking.