It was written on my door
By Bill Roundy
(returning from the party
where I'd danced and drank
to the fourth-floor dormitory
where I spent my nights,
I found something scrawled across
my message board. It was a welcome,
in its way, I read)
AIDS is your curse from God
(it said, and I thought, How nice!
Someone stopped by, though I
wasn't home to greet them. My door
is always open, they could have
come in, had a drink and some civilized
discussion, another drink and maybe
some seduction (if it was a cute Catholic boy
who'd defaced my door) - he was polite,
I'll give him that
the dry-erase marker firmly placed
in its slot just as before.
But he didn't sign his name, anonymous
caller, bad manners at least.
And I could make this political
But what I did was:
I wiped my door clean.
I climbed in bed and slept.
I left my door unlocked.)