Not sure where the family
behind us is from
but they are reciting scripture
in the mess hall cafeteria.
This lingon berry soda is almost finished and my patience is almost finish and I don’t know if I can handle what lies ahead of me and my satire stature.
It’s like I forgot how to write;
forgot how to type;
forgot how to spell and tell if I was right. It’s like I’m a meatball
floating off the plate
about to plummet
on the cold, hard ground.