gone spiking their
volleys in the lights off
McNamara Hall where
they all seem so near
even seven stories
down on the ground
when their noise is
in the atmosphere.
Now a music mish-mash
booms in the air
outside this single
lit dorm of mine where
the critters hang
stuck on the shut screen
and buzzers leapfrog
and fight bare handed
for the fabled glory
of my florescent scene.
Here some guys are disposed
to yell in the hall
to torture us guys who
have to suffer all
night in our bunks until
the shade cuts in
and finishes off their
drunken staggers blinded
by a limelight hole
to throw their guts in.
But even when our
suite is trashed like that,
I still say it’s “dorm
sweet dorm”—
and a pretty sweet
place to crash.
--Farewell Frat Row
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