Volume 65

She let me hit it because I’m goofy…  She let you hit it because you followed my authoritative list: She’s wonking on my willy ‘til I chocolate factory She’s doofen on my shmirtz ‘til I incorporate her evil She’s robbing on my barts ‘til I comm She’s cranning on my berry ‘til I juice She’s

to catch a bus in its natural habitat, you must stay alert and aware. these are fickle, erratic beasts, ostensibly diurnal, occasionally nocturnal, their migration patterns known to be predictably unpredictable. despite their size, they are relatively docile creatures—a disposition which has led to the slow erosion of their position in the food chain. competition

Illustration | Jennifer Fong Li Lumpy yogurt, oh so sour Winter’s chill, we must endure In the recycling bin, a cookie crumbles Cilantro sprouts on the farm, humbles   But in the cliché camp of love Two male peacocks soar above Their feathers dance, their hearts ablaze Filibustered by society’s ways   If Rupi Kaur