Oh Woozoo,
Your blessed blades breathe air within my Brooks dorm room
Your swiveling head surveys atop the shoebox, sustaining a subtle breeze that whispers a coo
I know it is not easy to combat the cosmic forces of the summer heat’s ransom
It cannot be simple on your soul to exist in an endless Sisyphean quest
To be swish, swish, swishing against stale steamy air knowing you seldom lower the temperature but a mere degree.
But know, dear Woozoo, I believe in your jest
I must, though our relationship conflictual.
I, too, was bound to a fate that is not of my own desire,
For all that my tuition dollar be, just as verdant as my Sulz co-patriots, my dorm is not equal
Let us both pray for the day the sun’s rays choose to lose their fervor
