Boredom At The Marriot
Poem By Eli MorenoDrew
I don’t know how many times I cycled
A dozen, maybe two.
I guess it merely reflects my sheer anxiety.
It’s Saturday night at 9: 48 in Oakland,
And I am as sure as sure can be that
I’m slowly losing my sanity.
It is no longer home sickness.
It is an elaborate, uncontrollable disease that
is feeding and growing from my energy.
Leaving me at the brink of tears for a familiar sight.