Her bare midriff was rolling along aside of her while the other male in heat students were whistling along.
Obsessed with breast, bars, and excuses to give the professor why they will miss the first class.
“It’s only the syllabus,” a longhaired fat kid says to some zit-faced hero.
“They never do anything the first day.”
“Tell the teacher that your schedule was wrong. He’ll believe you.”
While the girl with the jiggling abdominal muscles looks for other failures in the fashion world to bond with, another girl storms out of her dormitory-angry over her lack of slumber.
“My God-damn roommate was up fucking some jingle jangle she met last night…I didn’t get a wink of sleep with her moaning and screaming.”
She wasn’t saying it to anyone in particular, just showing her emotions to the blank air.
Upset over other’s orgasm.
Her blood-stained eyes focus on an SUV that is in the process of packing up some misguided co-ed’s belongings.
As the balding dad shakes his head in disgust, carrying a computer and a small lamp-the mom emerges from the doorway with her arms around her daughter.
Consoling the sobbing girl who is muttering, “I can’t stand being so far away from home…I hate this place.”
Three older girls, probably juniors, are pointing to the hysterics between small giggles and party goggles.
“It’s only been two days,” one of the experienced says to the other veteran. “I guess she just couldn’t take it.”
Meanwhile, the third girl with the black halter and busting cleavage stares at some boy who just left the science building.
“I want him,” she utters in the midst of a sheepish grin.
“I want him drunk and naked tonight.”
All three girls guffaw loudly, ignoring the fact that they have biology lab at 9 o’clock the next day.
“So, we’re going to Smitty’s Pub tonight, right?”
About Dan Provost:
Dan Provost's poetry has been published throughout the small press for many years. He is the author of nine books and lives in Berlin, New Hampshire with his wife, Laura--and their Bichon Frisce...Bella.
No comments:
Post a Comment