Undesirable Support

One cup to my mouth and a shout:
They have pastries up there too!

"Oh, thanks, we didn't ask you."
Or that's what those middle westish
faces said, with their smile and wave
and we appreciate your input. 

I'm in the corner.
The room is empty.
Chairs from middle school.

A vowel on the tip of my tongue;
I mean a bowel with a grip like a lung;
it's time to release
that exit-stential need
and sit down
on the porcelain's
uncomplaining crouch.

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