Freshman dorms!

Poem that won Paul 1st place nationally in the "Room Renovators" contest

If home is where the heart is,
Then my heart is moving out;
My dorm room’s a disaster,
A real downer, there’s no doubt.

It was a sweet September,
I recall, that move-in day
When I was unaware of
All the lovely games we’d play,

Like “Stomp the Roaches,” “Trap the Rats,”
Or “Stop the Faucet Leak”
Or “Try to Roll In Bed
Without the Springs’ Infernal Squeak”

Or “Name that Stain” or “Find the Draft”
Or “Try to Hold Your Breath”
Or “Check Out that Asbestos;
It Could Surely Spell Our Death.”

If blooming where you're planted
Is a truly grand pursuit,
Then I should have no problem
Finding dirt to plant my root.

It’s really not all fun and games
In our third-story pad;
There’s peril in the floorboards,
And the smell could drive you mad.

The laundry’s in the bathroom
And the homework’s in the sink;
My roommate showers weekly,
And he’s telling me I stink.

Toenail clippings line the floor—
A jagged, crusty rug—
And who’s to say those sweat stains
Won’t come out? I simply shrug.

If "mi casa es tu casa,"
Then feel free to make a trade—
Give me a cardboard box,
And I will say I’ve got it made.

I tell my girlfriend, “Stay away
If hygiene is your bag;
We’re cultivating mildew,
And the trash might make you gag.”

I tell my mother, “No, I’m fine,”
And “You can hardly tell
The AC unit was designed
For freshman dorms in Hell.”

And when my friends come up,
I tell them, “Oh, there’s one thing more:
Be sure to wipe your feet
Before you walk out my front door.”