8:38 PM

A poem by sophomores Nyati Misra & Judy Wang

I guess I’m bound to be broke in art college. 

You will be broke but happy, besides I will be six feet under in student debt. 

Hahaha and we will meet up in a small café in the center of nyc 

And I’ll be sleep deprived and you’ll be hanging on by a thread 


Hovering over hot tea and talking about how 

hard medical school is and how 

no one is giving credit for my work. 

And we will have “made it” in the most vague way possible. 

But did we? 


Is it just fate and destiny 

that trolled around the laboring men in my cup-sized brain. 

Wait, I can picture the scene. 

Pretending that by 2nd year of college we haven’t lost touch 

And the familiar warmth that would have long vanished was still by our fingertips. 

With some kind of pretension that escaped through the bell

 on that heavy oak café door as we walk into a friendship 

long forgotten.