|
This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “a Perfect Solitude” cc&d (v262) (the May 2016 issue, v262)  You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:  |
|
| |
|
Order this writing in the book Clouds over the Moon the cc&d Jan. - June 2016 collection book |
 |
get the 318 page Jan. - June 2015 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:
|
| ||
|
Order this Janet Kuypers writing from her most recent poetry book series: (pheromemes) 2015-2017 poems Order this 6" x 9" ISBN# book today of select poems written mid-2015 - mid-2017 during her first years living in Austin, TX
|
|
|
| |
| eating slices of white bread
Janet Kuypers 10/30/15 I know, I know, I heard that the University I went to (because of it’s sheer size) was supposed to have the largest Greek system. Now, I have no way to check if that was true or not, but you’d think that with that many fraternities and sororities I’d have to pledge, but no, I was a little more interested in not being like everyone else, and not finding a family of girls when all I wanted to do was avoid the idea of a family altogether. But I do have to admit, with that many fraternities there were a lot of places with a lot of liquor that were willing to liquor up us girls. My best friend was in a frat that was spitting distance from my dorm, so I’d go to their frat parties a lot. And I don’t know, maybe I don’t get the bond that frat boys feel, but at this frat house’s parties, they always made a point at some point in the night to play the Elton John song “Crocodile Rock.” When this song started, all the guys from that frat would rush to their living room &#$047; mock dance floor and start dancing with each other like gymnastics, like some totally nonsensical hazing thing. They’d do somersaults, they’d lock hands and feet with another frat guy and do tumbling rolls across the floor and at the time, it was the strangest thing I’d ever seen grown men do. Whenever I was at a party there with my friend and that song started, we’d lock eyes, and then want to hide (you now, before my frat friend was asked to join the gymnastics). We’d make sure we each had beer and then we’d go to the only place we though was safe the back of the basement in their industrial kitchen. We’d sit on stainless steel countertops and eat generic slices of white bread, not toasted, not buttered, just industrial bread slices. We were happy with our bread and beer, waiting ‘til that song would end. |
