Vern’s Covetous Pinch

Andrew Eckert

The fire-crotched fellow felt fallow

Since swearing off hook-ups as shallow.

When brazened by bingeing,

He sickened of singeing

For water-crotched women like aloe.

So setting his values behind him,

He let a girl get on and grind him.

With regret, not the dame

But the fellow came—

When other girls heard they declined him.

Now celibate not by his choosing,

The values he’d felt he’d been losing

Became an excuse

For a lack of caboose

When the ladies continued refusing.

His dystrophic dangle provided

Extra blood to the brain; he decided

That hook-ups were shallow-

He’d rather be fallow;

Not remembering why he had tried it…

Reflecting upon the insertion

That led to this female desertion

The fellow, regret

To a celibacy reassertion

Ode to the Student Union

Mary Sarsfield

Oh how I adore the Student Union.

Where I dine on 12-inch subs and cheap burritos

And steal sugar packets

Because I’m that fuckin’ poor.

Where I nap in the Commuter Lounge

Wondering how many have drooled on the spot

On which I rest my head.

Where sweat-shirted fraternity brothers

Thrust quarter-sheets of paper into my hand

Invites which feature a photograph of a half-naked woman

And promise me open bar all night long.

How tempting that sounds,

Alpha Schmalpha Pi.

Where I receive free condoms

Free cotton candy

And free popcorn

All of which propel me into brief fits of confusion

During which I can’t figure out if I’m at a school, a Planned Parenthood, or a carnival.

Oh Student Union,

How I adore thee!

My world is a deep, dark pit of ultimate despair and longing

Marissa “DeathTramp” Chabon

Down down

Deep and dark

My mom won’t lend me

The keys to the car.

Down down

Dark as night

I wish I didn’t

Have to fight

With my mom.

Down down

Into the dirt

Now I will be

Late for work

At Starbucks.

Up up

Into the sun

I wonder if they reviewed

My application

At Hot Topic.

Ode to the Letter ”Y”

Ryan “Moss” Yaeger

Oh, ‘y,’ where would we be without you?

In reference to others, would we ask about ‘ou?’

And what about yamaka, yoink, yearning, or

yams?

Or the plethora of others, which your use

demands.

In naming you’re useful, as even I can see,

Without my two ‘y’s just who would I be?

‘Years’ become ‘ears’ without you to guide them,

And no ‘Y’ in genetics and we’d all turn out

femme.

So I guess what I’m saying, here at the end,

Is that ‘y’ truly is our bestest-best friend.