Bad water never boils,
I say to myself.
Reduced to tap water
because I’m trapped at home,
waiting for the phone guy
to come.
It makes me feel
I cannot think.
I cannot bathe.
It seems the word wait,
means I should sit erect,
in Sunday clothes.
The plants go unwatered,
I cannot type.
I cannot put my attention
on anything
but this waiting.
What does that say
for my brain,
not enough
to go around.
Can’t chew
gum and walk.