there’s something …about
sitting in a full room hungry
(no one will ever know) …about your this
personal sensation
(not really)
…this pathetic condition
masked through learned apathy
and a miserably inadequate smile
no one will ever know
(or care) about
the turmoil of You’re your
your stomach
(not really)
nor of much more
there and here
(there and here) you sit
hoping against hope
that it doesn’t
young man rumble
that while you stir
(in your chair
physical reflecting much more)
it doesn’t stir
like you (silly young you)
and give you away
for what you are