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Wouldn't you think it'd be worth the money
you read, you write, you think and study
To get to someplace they say you should be
but how do I know that that place is for me?
The entrance exams, the personal essays
are meant to determine my place in the assays
of time and of space, my rank among equals
Am I in the top half? Or the next Nia Peeples?
I don't wanna be washed up, don't wanna be done
but where am I going? And why should I care?
I should get a degree, and then maybe one more
time away from my loved ones (who told me to go)
So I can get a job, and pay back all my loans
(the ones I took out to afford to go)
And this ironic circle goes around and around
I'd like to stop for a moment, and sit on the ground
And think about what's really important, and what isn't there
in that place that they say is the cat's underwear
'cause I think I can see that place, over the hills
and I'm no longer certain it's exactly thrillsville.
It looks a lot like right here, with less money, less time
and no love left to comfort me, no peace of mind.
So I yell, "stop the spinning, I want to get off!"
I've taken a wrong turn, I've gotten quite lost.
I wander the streets, like a twisted Karloff
Pieces of better men, sewn from castoffs
make up my skin, my body and bones
where is the self that I once called my own?

DISCLAIMER: This poem is not intended to be a personal slap in theface to any of the policies or employees of the following fine institutionsof higher learning (you know who I'm talking about):

Merrimack College (B.A., English, 1993)

Syracuse University (M.A., Journalism,1995)