Set the stage...

My science partner is on his way to my apartment.
I run around to remove my stuff and organize my work, my mess.
I set the stage; it’s all a play, a regular rudiment.

The living room! Pillows on the couch, Bible on the table. I’m content.
I fill the soap—only half way. I use it, but I’m resourceful. This I’ll never confess.
My science partner is on his way to my apartment.

Tactfully, I place Calvin & Hobbes comics on his chair, flowers by the vent.
My shoes sorted by color, and oatmeal cookies in the oven. (15 minutes or less.)
I am the master; I set the stage, a regular rudiment.

The dishes are bubbled, the toilet paper end folded into an origami tent.
I sniff my pits, run cologne through my hair, and slap on a blue dress.
My science partner is on his way, almost to my apartment.

I quickly shave my legs in the sink, and my heart pumps for the event.
I don’t want to look like I try too hard; it’s not my only stress.
I set the stage like a dollhouse, a regular rudiment.

Go time. I sit on the couch and add my earrings, a simple accent.
He’s going to see my apartment and fall in love. That’s my guess….
My science partner is knocking on the door to my apartment.
The stage is set—just a regular rudiment.

I like his roommate.