I found this poem on http://www.cicadamag.com/ -- in the Slammables. I actually read it a REALLY long time ago, and then it took me half an hour to find it again... Canada can attest... she was there....

Wait
by M. F.

There is only so much waiting a person can do…
a finite number of coffee dregs swirled in a polka dot cup,
packets of jaggedly ripped sugar substitute,
tiles to count on the ceiling.

There comes a point when you know the alphabet backwards,
when the list of colors you remember includes tangerine and eggshell,
which really shouldn't be included anyway.
When you can recite the capital of Zimbabwe with little hesitation.

There comes a moment when you've seen every channel on TV,
organized the contents of the freezer by caloric level,
matched thirty pairs of socks,and eaten two and a half packs of wintermint gum.

There is a second when you realize.
A heartbeat when you suddenly know.
When you curl up, and let the tears fall.