On waiting
The cross hangs on the wall across from me
Two receptionists ( or secretaties,
I do not know which), are busy like bees.
Why don't they just feed me poison berries?
Why did I bring so much stuff: bags, clothes, junk?
Yet I still forgot things: shooes and teeth-care.
All this and I don't even get a bunk.
I just want to be eaten by a bear.
But here I am and here I want to stay.
If only I had a pile of cash-
In order to keep tuition at bay.
But who know...maybe this'll be a grand bash.
Patience. Pat-ie-ence. Sitting and waiting.
But it could be worse. It could be sobbing.