Rose's April Meditation

Southeastern Wyoming has been dowsed
in wet, heavy snow--hardly "powder"
and the world turned into an icicle--
in mid-April.
But...
finally on the 13th, the sun has won out.
It makes the snow melt, the water evaporate,
it clears up this mess. Maybe now,
spring will open it's arms
and embrace Wyoming in blossoms
and sweet smells of primordial sex
that will make the last 4 weeks of school
so achingly painful, as we are cooped up
in up our apartments writing research papers
and watching the dishing pile up
and the clothes emmalgumate
making every slow second of typing on the keyboard
more frustrating and painful
because all I really want to do is clean
and paint while listening to the sounds
of Renata Tebaldi singing soaring arias
from beyond the grave on my iPod.
Academia, bah! Right now I loathe you,
despise you. Can't we take out my tonsils now
so I have an excuse to forego your rigid
bureucratic principles of the THESIS...fucking theses.
Maybe I should learn a dead language
and write my Mexican American Literature
paper completely in Nahuatl. Unfortunately
they had no writing system.
Now, that IS a bummer.
Screw you identity. Screw. You.
I hope another blizzard comes
and shuts down campus for an
infinite amount of time
so I can finish these papers at my own pace
and forget quite how pretty it is outside.