I promise I’m not this much of a cynical crab every day. Welcome Week = no class = loafing. Loafing for me = sitting in Washington Square Park, mostly around the fountain. I watch people and play “Spot the Freshman” and try to guess how many people are going to drastically change this year. My bet’s also on myself. Every time I say I am not going to drastically change during the school year, I do. Sometimes the changes are bizarre, and all of it’s unexpected.

“Village Walk”
Last night the blaze of a beer billboard
kept me awake. It ironically said
“Buenos noches” as the light from
the neon lime eclipsed the moon.

Today the sky is an impossible blue,
the fountain full of splashing laughing
high school graduates. They walk in the park
and their lanyards swing and sing and scream
twenty-thirteen, the countdown starts now—
It’s almost time to grow the fuck up and get a job.

August afternoon sun reflects off of
shiny purple plastic and shiny ID photos
caught in a haze of

who can get drunk the fastest smoke
the most weed dance the most hardcore
try try try try try to find a place here
because you have no friends otherwise
so dress your best (navy, red, gold) to impress
and it better be a damn good one.

later the day shot with tie-dye red blue purple
turns to evening full of yellow orange gold

smoke another one and pretend
you don’t care that you lie
like a crushed sparrow on a street corner
littered with cigarette butts and spilled coffee.

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