“Patience,” New Era, Aug. 1983, 25
It’s lunchtime and I’m waiting,
Waiting for the toast to pop
so I can make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Algebra in 40 minutes, I’m waiting for that.
A test on the eighth chapter—I haven’t studied
but that’s fine, I seldom do.
I’m 16 and I’m waiting,
Waiting to see the hips and waist
Mother Nature generally hands out around now.
I’m waiting for my handsome prince
to appear from nowhere on a magic white
Smile, and hand me a single red
just like the ones the cheerleaders sold
for a dollar apiece on Valentine’s Day.
But there’s no prince and no white horse
Just basketball players
in red VWs and blue Datsun pickups
All too cheap to spend a buck on a flower
for a poor flat-chested girl
who occasionally writes poetry
while she’s waiting,
Waiting for the toast to pop.