A poem, entitled Why I Love My Roommates

When heading off to college the thing that people dread

Is not homework or the tests, but the girl in the next bed.

Who knows if she is crazy? Or if she has a car?

What if she eats all your food or untunes your guitar?

She could be a neat freak, or worse, a total slob.

What if she just won't stop whining about boyfriends or her job?

My roommates aren't like this. They don't steal my snacks,

We share our clothes and jewelry, and always give stuff back.

We talk about our problems and offer good advice,

And even when I'm horrible, to me they're always nice.

I hope they know I love them and think they are the best;

And when I leave, remember: you liked me better than the rest.