Two Minutes

One elephant, two elephants.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Fingers crossed.
Waiting.
Waiting as fate’s hand stretches the pause between seconds,
As heartstrings go taut.
Tick-tock goes the clock.
What if?

Ten elephants, eleven elephants.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Fingers crossed.
Outside it’s raining
But outside is too far,
It’s over the ocean, on the other side of the world,
Another universe.
What if?

Thirty elephants, thirty-one elephants.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Fingers crossed.
Desperate.
Desperate like all those times before,
All those empty déjà-vu moments of putting on a brave face.
Don’t think, don’t think.
But what if?

Sixty-four elephants, Sixty-five elephants.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Fingers crossed.
Struggling.
Struggling so hard not to build castles from dreams,
Castles that get toppled and crushed,
Time after time after time.
But what if?

Eighty-six elephants, Eighty-seven elephants.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Fingers crossed
Steps.
Just a few steps away from the door closing.
Time isn’t kind
And this will be the last,
The last time.
What?
What if?

One hundred fucking elephants stampeding.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Fingers crossed.
Don’t look,
Wait.
Wait on these uncertain seconds of wishes and prayers,
Of life before, life after and just living,
Daring to hope,
Daring to dream.
What if this time?

Breathe in, breathe out.

Fingers crossed.

Two blue lines.