The End.



I don’t know what else to say but this. It is the end of four years and it will inevitably be the end of knowing many people and remembering small details about college.  But the people you will know after the end matter. And they always will. You’ll throw away the MoMA receipts you thought you’d always keep, but you will remember seeing Starry Night for the first time.

And by the end what’s left but

empty dollar pizza fund jars

MET and MoMA receipts

annotated copies of Dreaming in Cuban

pens without caps

old pill bottles filled with tacks

rubber bands turned bracelets

journals with no entries

remember the time we_____

stubbed our toes and cried in Dumbo

got naked and played love

washed our hair in silver sinks

walked up and down the UWS

to figure out chemistry and broken bonds.

And by the end we know we stumbled

into the strangers we needed to

during half priced tequila shot nights,

one or both required sciences,

in crowded elevators and vacant stairs

or maybe not.

Fake death and fake smiles

find shelter where you can.

It feels like the end

or maybe not.