I am maybe; not neither, but not either yet;
you may know me from between and wait;
you want to push past while I, still, stare at
the gate before me, too many turns offered. You
see me hesitate, become irate at my indecision.

I am maybe, but not just that. I am also maybe not;
you stand, your plane or bus to catch, your meeting
to make, your watch ticking down opportunity, and
me eating up time and space, bleeding urgency away.

I am maybe; just as you rush around me and step into
the street brakes squeal, but late, and you have your
answer: I remain maybe; you change to not.

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