Alpha's Initiation

Stark, mint green concrete walls,
bunk beds, bumping elbows,
slamming doors, new faces,
odors aplenty. Such was Alpha’s
first time living in the dorm.

Alpha slumped like a dishrag
limp on the thin mattress; bed
boards fussed wounded
pushing back in grudge.
This side of pigsty, thought Alpha;
I am as cold as stone beneath
January’s boot.

A bathroom narrow, decrepit
commode, hair in the sink,
a chipped mirror, blue tiles loose,
rusted spigot. Alpha tensed like
tight shoes, gritted teeth and sighed
shivering.

One small desk with a Happy Days'
era lamp (a War-of-the Worlds'
neck, long, scaly and slump-prone),
illumination dim like London nights
in fog amid dying streetlights.

Privacy as scarce as Roman coins
in Las Vegas, sleeping hard to achieve,
studying as futile as trying to solve
Rubik’s Cube while intoxicated.
Alpha’s stomach churned.
Energy and acne, thought Alpha;
I feel alone, but I know I’m not.


30 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
9-4-17

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