Room-not-mates

I’ve read books, 

Watched tv shows and movies

Where girls go off to college

And are magically paired with roommates

Who are

Sisters, best friends, their other halves 

(Or your fraction of choice).  But,

Though not a surprise, certainly 

A magnificent let down,

I didn’t have that amazing 

And much vaunted

Experience.

Instead, my roommate 

My freshman year of college 

Was a junior transfer student from Belize

Who was very quiet, very studious, and

Did I mention 

Connected at the hip to 

A sophomore transfer student

From Belize.

And is that any surprise?

Two hothouse flowers

Transplanted in Syracuse, New York. 

My luck with college roommates

Really never

Improved much.

One a local girl

Who stole from me

And screwed her boyfriend,

“Jomo, named for an African king,”

While I tried to sleep

About 6 feet away.

Another

Who complained because 

I didn’t party enough,

Didn’t drink enough,

Wasn’t cool enough,

Unless no one else was around 

And she didn’t want to be alone.

And the last,

An idiotic girl

Who wore purple kitty sweatshirts

That had white Peter Pan collars

Attached to the neckline and puffed sleeves,

And judged me

For what, I never knew

Nor particularly cared,

Though it might be my

Derision of her fashion sense

And concrete

Five year plan,

While I was scrambling 

On the verge of graduation

To find any job

That would allow me to

Not

Move home with my parents.
Someone 

Needs to force

Those books, magazines, sitcoms, 

Lifetime specials

To carry a warning label:

“Relationships in the pages/screen

Are farther away

Than they appear.”

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