“It’s a small world after all”
Is all I hear when I pull up to the gate
Little Dutch houses and paper
Dolls in dresses greet me except
The last time I checked poor Mr. Walt
Disney was never a hangover sporting heroine
Addict with no personality but a
Rather cool tattoo regardless.

And the last time I checked Rivendell
Hadn’t kicked out all of its male elves
Although I must admit this change
Is definitely for the better.
(Sorry Legolas.)

Maybe when I all I see is
Vampires and ghosts willowing over
Pews of a place so creepy that the undead surely
Must reside in the graveyard out front
Maybe when one ivy covered wall melds into
The next moldy dorm and the next
Goose filled courtyard or the next face
Of an admissions guide with a stick glue
Pasted smile, maybe I’ve been in
The car too long and have been listening

To a voice of cellos over a tour guide
For too long and have spent a life
Looking at fantasy instead of just
Another boring old dusty campus for
Far too long and maybe,

Announcing one’s major,

Treading lightly on delicate college
Individualism and gardens of pot in
Between all those nicely tended flowers
Does get the better of one’s tolerance…

…after a few too many trips.

Or perhaps it’s just all of that
DAMNED
Modern art, a sight which makes
Me personify a campus, even a
Campus I liked quite a bit into
Hell frozen over.

Just like that.