Waiting Room Dues Poem by John Zeller

Small child
Staring at me
Talking about me
Admiring my haircut
Maybe
Two mature ladies
Conversing
Cursing
Boring me
Into this verse
A curse
Rehearse
My chorus line
Before strangers
With many eyes
A disguise
Of wisdom
And outright lies
So who is wise?
I ask who relies
On my answer
To survive
Arcing light
With one foot
In the bathtub
And my finger
On the trigger
Of a freshly backed
Apple pie
Pulling cats
Out of the sky
Sunny side up
Under her chin
I hold a buttercup
She likes butter
I heard her mutter
She past the test
To strawberry fields
Latex and leather
Handcuffs and fur
Riding crop blues
Heard the news
Paid my dues
And you
Do you have
A receipt
No receipt
No proof
Never took place
Maybe in space
Doesn't count
Gravity pulls
Plastic jewels
Silly fools with
Combat tools
Don't be cruel
To me