Lock the Door
Let’s say you went to college
With Victor Frankenstein, like
Maybe he was on your floor,
Even in the dorm room next door,
Raging as he would be in all
Of his mercurial madness, swept
Constantly back and forth between
Ecstatic philosophical highs and
Drunken, regretful lows, and
Who knows, maybe roping some
Poor first-year dope into his
Strange experiments, down in
The quad or up on the top floor
Of the library, among the dusty
And forgotten stacks, and yes,
Someone probably should notice
The wild eyes and uncomfortable
Laugh, someone should say
Something to an RA or report
The strange odors that waft from
Under his door, postered as it is,
With Goth bands and warnings
To abandon all hope, ye who enter…
But we’re all pretty stressed, and
We all keep strange hours, and
If we’re being honest, no one wants
A confrontation with the guy
Who’s always mumbling to himself.
No one has that kind of energy.
No one has room for more risk.
Keep your own burdens close
And try to avoid the explosions.
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