This next thing

I keep squeezing the app
Waiting for the world to change

Like worry beads or rosaries
I put the pressure right there

I run my thumb
Over the writers’ names

Maybe a comma will budge
And that will be the start of things

I tell myself 
I have some agency left 

I make the white man flash
when I cross the street

I console myself 
I can’t be so lonely

Imaging the millions 
Feeling the same way

I call in sick
And wait out the world

I’m very patient
That way