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| Category: Other
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| Prisoner of Courtesy
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My eyes adjust to the light-less room,
And fixate on the red-lit time.
The alarm has yet to cry bee-doom,
Bee-doom. Soon will start the day's prime.
I softly swing my legs to the floor:
A slight rustle. I lift a book and slip
Over to the invisible door.
No light in the hall, and so I tip-
toe-tip, and sigh into the center-room
Love-seat. I read by lamp 'til the night recedes,
Hues flowing from their celestial womb,
Morning both feeding life and weeds:
My free time, like the sun, is now up.
I creep back to my dorm, my roommate inert.
The blinds are blinding, the sun is not shining.
Because here is my desk, here I must work,
Secluded from my gorgeous day by this napping jerk.
Revised 8 December 2002
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