I was born on a line
Perhaps it was a zig zag
But there was a queue
A line, I meant
Lined up
Or maybe that was my adolescence
And maybe it was various rectangles
Sitting in a desk
Hoping for assigned seats
So the queue was out of my control
Or maybe it was early adulthood
Following the line of thinking
Of some book of philosophy
Attempting to draw parallel lines
Connected to some biography
To see the lines on my face
As a series of lines
That might mean something
A direct line
Or maybe it was when I jumped out of line
Fought for no reason
But that lack of a time line
To my sleep
But that line ended in a squiggle
As well
But I'm really only tracing lines
Because I'm in a motionless line
At the airport
Roman Ryan 