Girls Are Always Waiting

At noon
I have a caffeine headache.

I am sitting cross-legged on the couch
with a lunch of bad Chinese food
hoping for a text back
and for my Diet Coke
to swiftly counteract the headache.

It is nearly Christmas,
a fact indiscernible from my immediate surroundings:
We have no tree.
Nor through the window
can I see any indication, just
houses and yards and dead grass.

But it is nearly Christmas,
that season which says to me,
make a wish.

I would wish for a change,
for prophecy,
for my fortune cookie to reveal our future
so that I could embrace a present
with confidence.

For years I have asked,
what next?