poem about me without using the pronoun "i"

one hour left for my interview
in an empty house that is not my own
up since 8 AM to wait for 4.30 PM
feeling like one of those movie characters
played by actors like bill murray
clink of a single spoon against a single plate
one bottle of water, one waiting book
one cigarette for the nerves
one lit lamp
one pair of shoes by the door
a wait, a sweater
and the cold.
soundtrack and all.