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.