The hobgoblins strike at my teeth
As the recyclables flail with emotions
And the bicycles fly through the air
After a night with Jameson’s
And the camera excites the little girls
Who sing to the cherry trees even though
No one is actually listening
But no one cares, no one knows
How I can sit here for hours and hours
Waiting for something to happen
But nothing ever does, except a bathroom break
Every now and then.