The Odor of Stale Nachos

Dear Blog,

My day consisted of Spanish 102, History and Systems of Psychology, nap with Victoria, voicemail frustrations, package from home with my Spanish book, Smores 'N More, SAC movie (Killers) and the acquisition of the good Doctor. Here's a poem I wrote instead of eating lunch.

The Odor of Stale Nachos
by Daniel Golden

The time is 10:32 and the
faded peach-colored
hallway carpet supports
the bare feet of freshman
treading to community showers.
One by one, covered in sweat
from August air,
Beach volleyball sand between
untreated toes,
Standard issue blue towels
barely around their waists,
They talk about the lousy football team
and all types of girls they’ve seen.
Laughing loudly,
ignoring the dorm policies
posted to cinderblock walls
with orange flyers,
instead honing in on the Sigma Nu social,
Theta Chi BBQ,
DJs from Sigma Phi Epsilon,
and wicked Root Beer Fest at the Pi Kappa Phi house.
Loyalty, honor, trust,
scholarship, respect, and service
mean little tonight to these men.
Beyond the last Cardinals game or Call of Duty match,
things rarely mean much.
Unaware of the off-campus world,
the showers start, water falls onto backs and faces.
As Top 40 hits echo in every shower stall,
the stress of rushes washes off,
fear of rejection ejects,
the camaraderie formed
in that hallway line
that none of them will ever know
binds them together while
they each feel lonely.