my stomach has never hurt
so hard
from laughing because i’ve met
some of the best people
to share it
with.
it’s two in the morning
and we decide
perhaps it is time to start
the work that we should’ve
done ahead of time.
and in the morning,
we promise we’ll finish
but instead
we sit and laugh, again.
this time, inappropriately.
the professor’s watching,
and we aren’t getting our work done.

the mexican restaurant
ironically run by asians
is closed.
again.
i’m craving enchiladas.
so i make do with second tier
ones from gramercy.
they’re not bad.
but i prefer
the ones from the mexican restaurant
run by asians.

i sit bundled up,
half free-writing, half asleep,
and i take the person sitting in front of me
and use them to my advantage.
perhaps if i move my head
just a little to the left,
the professor won’t see me
nodding off to sleep.

(i just wanted a little nap).

but i resist
and we present
half-heartedly.
i don’t think we really cared
about the new chancellor
about bloomberg
and about joe torre.

the library brings a welcome change,
and i see a familiar face.
and we sit together
and we laugh
and before we know it,
it’s time for class.
again.

this time,
i make haste
to allow my eyelids to flutter
until they are cemented shut
as Descartes is explained to us
by our passionate
but flighty
professor.

i wake up in time
to be assigned into a group.
(what are we arguing again?)
something about the senses
and how to use them.
and whether we are certain.

i dislike debates like this.
i feel uncertain already.
and philosophy
makes me even more uncertain.
uncertainer. uncertainest.

the train ride home is a haze.
and i am glad to be home.
even though the living room
is missing
its lively chatter
half
from my parents
and half
from the television.

but they’ll be home soon,
and all will be right.