The wait feels so long this day,
For I sit in great dismay
A drink or the fifth slows down the chatter
Slows down the world, drowning in liquid matter
A lady in soot-black sighs so deep
For she’s lost two of ten properties
She hangs her head to floor
Crying, she may just be a penny apart from the poor
An imbecile! With such filth besotted
Is the one knowing zilch of all she’s allotted
Take me, the one truly worth the pity
All I’ve done for the promotions they never give me!
A stool away, I slide a bill down
To a man patting his pockets with a frown
Perhaps I’ll buy him a drink or two
Procure an ear for the night to share what I’m going through
I tell him my troubles, and he listens with care,
Claiming neither to him has life been so fair
I inquire what exactly he means
To now hear him, he pleads of me:
“Here I am for the last time,
For here I am on my last dime
Your troubles do not seem so ill
If I wished, I could not have spared you a bill”
I tell my new friend I understand
Heart to heart, man to man
We turn our gazes just then
To a youngster lying on a bench
Surely no fate can descend beyond that
My friend and I drink with our bottles now flat
Empty-eyed, a woman who’s just learned of her fate knows all this is fleeting
The bench man is far wealthier, for his heart will still keep beating
Shriya Pochampally is a recent DePaul graduate/alumni. Shriya studied psychology during her time at DePaul University (2022 – 2026) and enjoys working on personal creative writing projects outside of work and academics, focusing mainly on poetry and some short fiction. While an undergraduate, Shriya utilized elective courses in philosophy and poetry writing to draw inspiration from topics she finds interesting and to refine her writing skills.