“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.