ROOM WITH A VIEW
Time passes slowly in a pressured room,
Even a room with a view.
A privileged room,
A room with a view.
Only the few who know what to do,
Spend their days in a room with a view.
On the dot of eight o’clock,
A plastic key in a plastic lock.
I pretend not to hear,
Then feign surprise when I open my eyes.
And see them standing there.
‘That time already’, I always say,
And they always smile.
On the dot of twelve o’clock,
Another plastic key in the same plastic lock.
I stare out the window not wanting to look.
‘It’s only me’, he always says,
And I always smile and tell him to fuck off.
Normally, on the dot of five o’clock,
I hear a plastic key in the plastic lock.
But not today.
And I don’t know what to say.
So I bite my nails and say nothing.
A break from routine, however routine,
Is always obscene.
And if I’m obscene I have to redeem,
Wash myself clean.
With lukewarm water in a plastic sink,
Which always makes me think.
Time passes slowly in a pressured room.