By Sonam Kaloti, Arts Editor
“did you see her
blowin’ dust, coughin’ windpipes.”
all these shadows seem to move,
are you scared that I’m not your type?
oh, go fast.
death wish lingers.
echoing all through the city.
do these ladies want a piece of me?
I’ve got shorts on at three degrees.
they’re telling me to leave,
get used to a little knee.