Content Frustration

Dear you,

I'm laying down and attempting to read
a book for class.
The apple I'm eating is cold and crunchy
and the juice drips from my chin onto my chest.
I use my shirt to absorb it.

I'm sitting in chapel hearing words like "keen"
and "petrol" and sayings like "Good on you."
The pew I'm sitting on suddenly becomes hard and
uncomfortable as something stirs within me:
I want to bolt.
I clench my jaw to get by.

I'm standing at the mirror fixing my hair.
The curls are flat and dirty and I sigh with
content frustration.
I throw it into a ponytail and move on.

Sincerely,
Shae