in and out of the office in 36 minutes
6 because doctor needed a coffee.
for 30 she is all clumps of eyelash
and chips of cold cream, pursed
raincoat lips patronizing,
the snap of latex, the puff
of botox cheeks, air instead of smoke
how unfortunate, lissenup now
this is important:
a seat at the bar. a spot at the table.
a slice of pizza. a sip of lemonade,
or a few, but remember, nobody's forcing you.
you can always just take the north corridor,
crack through the door, leaf through the
first thing you come across in the drawer
well, that sure as hell wasn't put there by the gideons.
tell me if you start seeing secret messages on the television
tell me if you start hearing people speak to you on the radio
try not to join a cult, but if you do, tell me what you had to sell
for a decent room and company every 10 minutes on the hour
and songs that are yours and everybody else's too.