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(A poem from my undergrad Northwestern days)

My roommate and I are two who don't care,

In making a mess we equally share.

Steve leaves his papers to cover our floor,

While I never take off the notes from our door.

Our rug has been vacuumed but once this whole year,

While our sheets were washed only twice, I fear.

Assorted books lie under my bed.

A mouse is there too, but I think he is dead.

As for our trash, we are not fools;

Emptying it monthly's just one of our rules.

And while searching for things in this ungodly room,

One finds so much dust he could cover a tomb.

Why are we so unkind to our place,

Letting it fall to such disgrace?

Well, after doing some contemplation

I have arrived at an explanation.

In answer to why our room's in this state -

This is what makes universities great.

The time that is saved from cleaning's dull chore

is spent with that thing which is never a bore:

Entire afternoons belong to sweet thought,

Never thinking on girls, but on what can't be bought.

Arguments shine with words from the wise,

And brains begin growing to twice normal size.

Confusion is emptied from inside of the head

To ensure that illogic is finally dead.

All dullness is poured straight down the drain,

As a Comet brightens up the gray of the brain.

The room within is very bright;

But the other - my God, what a dreadful sight.

- Peter Braun

Peter Braun, a web content analyst and desktop publisher, lives in the greater Chicago area. He's a graduate of Northwestern University's Writers' Workshop program.