Death is one, of course
And taxes, second—almost worse.
But the third—
Oh, the third—
Such a horror, unnamed
Yet inevitable curse:

You’ll return to the dorms from a night of fun
Seeing flashing lights while firefighters run
Then be forced to stand amidst the throngs
Of fellow students in the cold,
At least three of whom shiver
In naught but a towel’s hold,
One with mid-shower soap still in hair

Because someone, who has no excuse,
Forgot how to read
Or pour water
Or perhaps had too much illicit “juice”
And put a dry mac n’ cheese cup in their decades-old microwave

Then pushed Start