Temporary Parking Place
I stand alone at the door
Watching hoardes of people pour
into the lunchroom, chatting, giggling,
enjoying their break from classes.
But not me.
I miss the safety of the classroom,
where my only job is to assume
the mindset of a student,
and not that of a socialite.
In the cafeteria, I sweep the room once more
but see no familiar face, and head out the door
to the locker room, panicked.
Must make myself look busy
Must not look out of place
Go to bathroom, fix hair,
maybe in that time an acquaintance will be there
in the lunchroom at a table with one seat left.
I venture into the open, vulnerable and lonely,
To see someone next to an empty spot I pray might fit me.
May I sit here? I mumble
And in return I get a grunt and a grumble:
Fine, I guess.
I go ignored, sitting at the end of the table
And remain in silence, quietly relieved I was able
To find at least a temporary parking place
Until I can return to my desk, with a book in front of my face
to hide from the reality of my lonesomeness,
counting the hours, the minutes, the seconds
to when the clock strikes two fifteen
and this nightmare is over.
