Waiting for B.
No one else ever knows what you’re waiting for;
So you sit with your flower and your 5 o’clock face,
Trying to think of soap and supine and supper
Instead of sap and sucker and how stupid
You are to be barely mad.
With no one to ask,
You eventually forget about waiting,
And become alone and secondless minuteless hourless
Until he comes and erases all
That time by not giving a damn.
Bellingham, 1972