This morning breakfast was two coconut macaroons
and a novelty- sized pecan pie.
All from the cafeteria.
       When you’re going it alone, it’s the small things.
I can still hear the echoes of sleep as it recedes,
8AM, throaty yelps - panic -  
and it slurps down the drain.
        ****, I’d give anything for a drain snake.
****, I’d give anything for black coffee
and a hood on this ******* coat.
Just above the below and below the upper,
        I’m hovering somewhere in midfield.
But we didn’t cover this coordinate system in geography,
or what to do when you’re drowning
in waves of self-righteousness and the desire to be hip.
       I need that hood. And probably new shoes.
When your roommate is an egg-shaped vampire
optimism can be hard to come by.
Her munching marks the stroke of midnight,
       and I reach for the sleeping pills.
Oh for the perfumed winds of personal space.
Oh for the prairies of carpet and private bathrooms.
Oh to have hot water at 9PM.
        Sing sweetly of home ye golden-thighed youths.