Bread in a Bag

Bread in a bag,
Nowhere to go;
Scabs on my arms,
Bugbites the only show
In my unadorned room at night
Sealed like a locker tight;
Supermarket lines a daily rite
And incompatibility
Between my cash card
And register machinery;
My Spanish is better now
Than it was before,
People understand me more,
Like a pigeon at the door,
I can say “come” and “go”
And please please speak slow;
My hair got cut today,
Snip-snip-even-care,
I look younger now
By inches – less shaggy ware –
But noticed, right after,
Forehead receding faster;
Idle in this cafe,
Waiting for time to pass;
Chatter buzzing like a choir,
Fuzzy tv shows a boxing match,
People come and then they go,
Cut hair falls on the page below.