Flingin' Poem by anais vionet

It's Spring Fling today - an all-day campus concert with some up-and-coming music acts. We'll be out there, in the rain if we have to, we're determined and somewhat waterproof. We went out earlier, doing a scan for friends to find seats and place stuff to hold our spot.

What, up until now, have been notes of preparation for summer move-out, will become a symphony tomorrow - after my last final - I'll be a sophomore then, I suppose.

Peter has to check an experiment he's working on. He hugs me and heads out.
"He's so hot, " Anna observes, "he makes me think about sex, and you know what - YES! "
"You can have him, ' I say, 'he's too tall - and besides - he's friending-down, with me." I admit.
"I like him, " Lisa says, "he doesn't complain or disapprove of things."
"He's the modern man, " Anna says, dreamily.
"And he's REALLY good at kissing games." I confide, grinning like a creepy boy, to make them jealous. They all made various noises that piggybacked and incorporated into one coherent gagging sound.