I’m so impatient feeling today.

I’ve moved to town.

I’m waiting for my glass to fill 

Through the narrow water spigot 

On my refrigerator.

If I could take my cup down to the creek 

Below the hill where I now live,

I could dip it in,

And have it overflow in two seconds.

But they tell me that water is polluted,

And I must buy my water from the city.

First they go and tell you 

That you ought to buy a house.

Then they smile and say,

“Now you’ve got to go ahead and pay

To get connected to the waterline.”

This is why some cousins of mine cut a hole in their floor,

And then they cut one in their roof.

The first one so that they could poop,

The second, so that they could build a fire

In their living room, so they could stay warm and cook.

And the guys in ties’ll make fun of the natives,

But after a while the collection agencies decided

It wasn’t worth it to repossess their trailers.

My cousins traded in their first world woes.

I have traded in my business clothes

For some secondhand sweat pants and a brand new cat,

And I still got a little wampum buried in a mason jar in my backyard.

I’m thinking of seeing if I can get

A little portable water purifier for that.

Then I can go down to the creek to get my water,

And maybe I’ll eat the cattail roots while I’m there,

And shoot fire and save the matches,

And see if me thumbing my nose catches on,

Or see if I only find some second world woes to hang onto

When it comes to putting my laundry on the line.

-jenn