By Tess Brewer
O Caf, my Caf
All the time I have devoted to thee
Spending hours contemplating life waiting for the deli
Wasting years dreading the inevitable decline of mankind in the pasta line
What if, just if, I could be first to dine?
But alas, I cannot
As it is exactly twelve o’clock
And every student here
Anticipates the cheer of the cashier
Refusing to look up from their phone
The employees give a groan
As you and all friends ask for an eco box.
O Caf, my Caf
How bitter my life would be,
Not eating food that wasn’t so surprisingly spicy
How I’ll always answer the call,
For my dear, dear Hoff Dining Hall.