Boredom; A Fragment of Time

As I watch a drop of condensation

Roll over the "u" in "Nutritional Facts"

Ms. Freeman's room harbors conversation

that stays formally relaxed.

My Nike high-tops rest

upon the inanimicity of the wooden desk,

the same tangibility upon which I test.

I try not to laugh at the subliminal jest.

Just formulate a mental LOL,

then let out a sigh. Oh well.

A long-hand ticks, another spent second

another deceased moment my conscience has been beckoned.

Beckoned to establish absence. To establish vacancy.

Is it obvious? Do I exude boredom so blatantly?