The Love Song of J. Otis Townfrock
by Mike Bocchini with apologies to T.S. Eliot
Let us go to the Marvin Center, you and IWhen the evening is spread out against the sky Like an unconscious freshman on the bathroom floor; Let us go through certain unnamed buildings, XX and New HallTo J Street lines with endless waits: To lead you to an overwhelming question.Oh, do not ask, `Why stand for hours at Taco Bell Express?’ Let us go and get a Jamba Juice.
In the Quad the women come and goTalking of water polo
And indeed there will be timeTo wonder, `Do I dare?’ and, `Do I dare?’ Time to turn back and go to the GapTo buy new slacks and perhaps a cap – (They will say: `How his clothes are out of fashion!’) (They will say: `But how his shirts and pants are old!’) Do I dareDisturb the universe? Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare eat a pretzel? I shall wear white flannel trousers before Memorial Day.
I have measured out my life with Starbucks coffee spoons; I should have been a pair of ragged black Capri pantsClinging to the ass of a sorority sister.
We are the hollow menWe are the stuffed menOur dried voices, whenWe whisper togetherAre quiet and meaninglessAs lectures in a required classOr Hill rats’ feet over broken glass.
Shape without form, shade without colorParalyzed student association, administration without emotion.
This is the way my column endsThis is the way my column endsThis is the way my column endsFuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck – it’s the April Fool’s Day issue, why not enjoy it?