NOV PAD 2010 - day 17

Tell Me Why the Toilet Tissue is Locked in the Trunk of My Car


And I'm sitting upstairs in the middle of this red brick building
behind the locked door of my loft
behind the open door of the bathroom
(because the space is nothing but air and me). I'm wearing a grimace
a palm thrown dramatically to slap my forehead. This is stupid,
and sitting here wondering isn't helping the tissue get here
not quicker, not sooner, not at all.