We’re going to the zoo today; we’re going to the zoo!
Woops! I meant the Zou, okay? We’re going to Mizzou.
However, in a way, I meant what I said.
It is a zoo and we’re going to see how the animals are fed.
Our tour guide, a girl of about twenty,
Greets us in a way that I think is funny.
She yells MIZ and waits because she expects
Us to yell ZOU, but I pretend to check my texts.
The parents proudly shout the three well-known letters
But us kids blush crimson and try to get to know the floor tiles better.
Finally, we’re on our way to see the students in their habitats.
I see a few struggle to get to class, all have backpacks that are a bit too fat.
Some, however, remain in the square.
3 boys fling a disc around, wholly unaware
That we’re all watching them frolic happily in the sun.
But I secretly know that it is not so seemingly fun.
It’s an act, we all know, but we nevertheless choose to believe
That someday we’ll play Frisbee and not miss our homes we chose to leave.
Next stop: the dining hall, almost filled to the brim.
I spot a few cute boys as I try to casually skim them.
My mother nudges me irritatingly and knowingly grins
I shrug her off and focus on something else besides the young men
Smells of pizza and fried chicken fill my nostrils.
It’s a wonder how these kids can pay all their food bills.
I now understand how girls gain the freshman 15.
There’s no way to escape all that butter and margarine!
We say goodbye to the campus watering hole
And make our way outside for another guided stroll.
We’re lead to the dormitories to see not only where they sleep,
But also where they shower, study, and weep.
It’s clever how the zoo keepers only show us the suites,
Especially those not inhabited because they’re tidy and neat.
I know the truth though: the animals here do not live like royals.
The studies they’re enslaved to come with many toils.
All-nighters fueled by Red Bull are commonly expected.
And showers with spiders are typical when cleaning duty is neglected.
The tour of the menagerie has reached termination.
Now arise the questions about yearly tuition.
Do we really have to pay to stay in such a place?
I realize my mom’s goal to enroll me in a glass case.
No freedom, just work and study, study, study.
In her hands, I am nothing but Silly Putty.
I’m merely clay that must be shaped to fit into a certain career.
But that’s not entirely true for I can still steer.
I am still the decider of my own fate—I have a say!
And this zoo’s not for me. This is not where I’ll stay.
I’m not just another monkey you’ll see swinging around.
I’m a rare kind of bird that is hard to be found.
I need room to fly, to stretch my colorful wings.
I need a college that won’t tie my creativity down with strings.