Another oppressively sunny day
On the lower side of upper Los Angeles
Where the lines for porta-potties are never long
Because people assume they deserve better.

Some woman's sitting on a wall
Well, she wouldn't call it that
Since anywhere unoccupied
Is good enough to be a chair.

Asks every other person if they'll sit with her
For however long their patience can stand
Expecting neither yes nor no
Just enjoying the confusion on their faces.

Finally someone who's equally bored
Figures he's got nothing to lose
By looking into her what-the-hell eyes
And finding solace in mutual purgatory.

She hints at her displacement both material and not-quite-real,
The borders of borderless imagination
Where she can't get a job at Carl's Jr.
But she might be a doctor someday.

Seems almost disappointed that she wasn't disappointed
By this fly-by conversationalist,
Stubbornly accepting she's not alone
In searching for anywhere unoccupied.