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