The bell rang in the hallway
nearly five minutes ago.
Dinner time is over now.
My bowl of clam chowder sits
half-full on the desk. I am scrambling.
I slurp the cream and gobble
chunks of potato and bits of clam.
Soup drips from my leaky lower lip
and splashes onto the desktop
and my brand new keyboard.
Little flecks bounce off and onto
the front of my wool sweater.
I need more time or a bigger spoon.