Junior Whom I Met at the Tailgate, Shall I Compare Thee to a Mid-Semester’s White Claw?

By John Dough

Junior whom I met at the tailgate
I thought thy bore resemblance to an angelic being
Standing benevolently in an ocean of inebriated socialites
And sorority girls who claim they never had a “hoe phase” in high school

Thine infinite, empyrean beauty
Doth truly make me feel flustered, enamored, and complete
But it wasn’t until you cranked that soulja boy to the Mariah Carey Christmas remix
That I saw past thy appearance, I saw wisdom and grace

When thou shotgunned that pipe bomb
Thy put a bitsy hole in my heart
When thy dropped it low to “Apple Bottom Jeans”
I knew no pain or insecurity

If only thy would grant me the chance
To be thine Apple Bottom Jean
I swear it, among Poseidon and Interim Chancellor Susan R. Wente
Ye shadn’t regret it

So I advanced toward you,
And you noticed my presence

And in the way thy eyes gazed upon my innocent own,
And in the way you told me “fuck off you pervy freshman imma rip this bong”
…ah, darling
We shall tell this tale to our kids one day