The line moves forward.

Standing.

Waiting.

The steady hum of conversation.
Occasional rising of voices,
  quickly quieted.

Anticipation grows,
  with every slow shuffle.

Faces around you,
  young and old,
  full of thought and emotion.

Door gets a little closer.
Offering shelter from the sun,
  while promising even closer contact
  with those around you.

Finally, you hear those awaited words,

"Voter's Registration card, please."