a perfect circle
of cracking vinyl
with dirt in its creases
and a strip of grey tape
curled at the edges
and tacky with age
rests and spins
atop a silvered pole
of rusting metal
coated with grease
(that traps the dust)
to increase lubrication for spin
all the way to the base
of four pointed legs
with small and unsteady
wheels underneath
that roll around
an inch at a time
shaky and uneven.
This is the stool
that I sit upon,
one leg and ankle
tucked ungracefully beneath
the opposite thigh,
uncomfortable and ancy,
toes bouncing impatiently
upon a nearby shelf.
This class is so long
and the hour hand moves
so painfully slowly.
-- I wrote this while in class.
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