Meanwhile Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Meanwhile,
As the girl of white
Was talking to some scraggy kid
Who owned a blue Buick,
I froze in between the pillars.

Meanwhile,
As all the randy people
Are either drunk with a dirty mirth,
Or a presumptuous gossip,
I am deaf, and muted
Sitting on a decrepit bench
With the opaquely brushed room
Breathing through the creases.

Meanwhile,
As she was smiling,
Showing the flamboyance and luster
Of her youthful years
As a poised, phenomenal woman,
I was busy counting the days left
Until my departure
What saccharine escape!

Meanwhile,
As the Sun-burnt man was calling
All the attention of the lousy commuters,
I was busy calling the attention
Of some blunted god for some sort of
Vindication and absolution.
Why is this happening?
What miscalculated move did I do
In this goddam game of forfeit?
Tell me, I am anguished and infuriated!

Meanwhile,
Meanwhile.
There’s always a downcast analogue
In everything
And these unfortunate chains of events
Disgust me.