The Cantab
I’ve spent two years waiting for you to reopen,
I’ve been waiting to feel the shaky walls
Of a solid foundation,
I’ve been waiting for Simone,
For Myles to tell me about Icarus,
And find comfort in the sun,
I never knew you could miss someone,
You don’t even know,
I’m waiting for Rebecca to hand me,
My 7 dollar mixed drink,
The fabled cheap drink of Cambridge,
I’ve been waiting for the door guy,
I’ve been waiting for the guy in the back,
Who gave us writing prompts,
A sense of familiarity for names I can’t even remember,
I’ve been waiting to be a cellar dweller,
A name given to high school kids,
And I wear that badge so proudly now,
I’ve been waiting for the Cantab Lounge,
To open its doors,
So I can find the same comfort,
I find in the blankets at home,
At home,
At home,
I’m just waiting to come home.
Potato Chip Crumb Sadness
My mom has always yelled at me for wiping my fingers on my clothes,
So it makes sense,
That I inherently wipe my emotions on my sleeves,
All over my clothes really,
Sad days get wiped on my pant legs,
Potato chip crumb sadness,
Gets lost in my cleavage,
Wedging in my underwire,
Dangerously close to my heart,
The crumbs are so much easier to shake out,
I wear black so the stains are unnoticeable,
Forgetting I accidentally wiped my hands on my back side,
A perfect hand print,
Greasy crumbs,
My friend points it out to me,
I brush it off like nothing,
I ask my friend to see if it’s still there,
If anyone else can see?
The friends that help me brush it off are the best I’ve ever had,
The friends who lie and say they didn’t even notice,
they’re even better,
The ones that accept my potato chip crumb sadness a part of my everyday apparel,
They call me strong like I am a fashionista,
If my mom only knew how fashionable the stains on my clothes would be.
DIY MFA 