by Shane Moritz
I’d cook up breakfast before practice.
Always woke up dog-tired.
Sleepwalking was becoming a problem.
I hated basketball practice and did most of my running to the toilet.
Bit of a leaky gut to boot.
My roommates had waterbeds.
I napped roughly three hours a day on a twin bed.
The upstairs neighbor loved White Zombie.
He had a deformed hand and a glamorous girlfriend.
The relation of these facts plagued me.
He had a homely roommate named Cinema.
She had a ghostly pallor, and seemed suited for hallways.
Her voice was like a bird bursting from a shrub.
“Get out,” she said one night
after I had tiptoed into her great room and got into bed with her.
I played basketball for one year.
My knees had gone derelict.
I moved back to Hillsboro crestfallen.
One day my dad slinked into my room
choked up and I can’t remember why.
PHOTO: The author at 17.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: “Troutdale, 1990” documents my freshman year at Mt Hood Community College in Troutdale, Oregon.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Shane Moritz is an Australian/American made of good, honest maple. He has an MFA from Georgia College & State University. Visit his blog at Total Moritz of the Heart. He is presently a Baltimoritzean. Troutdale, 1990 documents his freshman year at Mt Hood Community College in Troutdale, Oregon.