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.