Ferlinghetti
A pair of underwear came in the mail on Friday. An absurdist moment opening the package in a crowded post office. No matter. How did home know it was exactly what I needed. Today I was considering wearing none until I remembered a couple clean pairs kept at St. A's. I could do laundry, but lugging clothes downstairs and back seems like too much time, effort. I barely make it to meals these days. And until went to the library at 9 pm, I hadn't been outside all day. Pouring over the remains of the semester reminds me how well I like my classes, but am beginning to wonder if taking courses with five finals and final papers was a bright idea. I couldn't sleep last night for studying.
In case I get lost, there's a trail of bread crums leading from Katie's room to mine. Traces of a violent fight from earlier this evening. The hysteria began walking back from the library. Laughing, I collapsed on the corner of Elm and York. Katie was doubled over. In the hallway we started throwing old rolls at eachother. Her 25 page paper on 19th century missionaries in Africa might be getting to her. All day over physics text definitely compromised my sanity. We'll sweep away the Hansel and Gretel imitation before the birds eat our path, or more likely, the janitors in the morning.
Three this week and Nietzsche next Monday. One final already down and the papers are gone. This junior year is on the edge of over. Standing on the precipice of summer, I look down and want to fall, asleep. Maybe I'll do laundry tomorrow.
In case I get lost, there's a trail of bread crums leading from Katie's room to mine. Traces of a violent fight from earlier this evening. The hysteria began walking back from the library. Laughing, I collapsed on the corner of Elm and York. Katie was doubled over. In the hallway we started throwing old rolls at eachother. Her 25 page paper on 19th century missionaries in Africa might be getting to her. All day over physics text definitely compromised my sanity. We'll sweep away the Hansel and Gretel imitation before the birds eat our path, or more likely, the janitors in the morning.
Three this week and Nietzsche next Monday. One final already down and the papers are gone. This junior year is on the edge of over. Standing on the precipice of summer, I look down and want to fall, asleep. Maybe I'll do laundry tomorrow.
