soju, soju, soju

Emma Burden | Spring 2022

The first time I went to Chinatown was when Marge Simpson still had her pastel colors,
She sat in front of a ViVi Bubble Tea, with an cross painted upside down on her forehead, 
I sat beside her sipping taro boba from somewhere else, and my mom took my photo with her,
I stayed away for four years

Walking through Bowery, I saw a man with blood dripping down his face, and my grandmother had pulled me away from him on the sidewalk,
I was told I couldn’t go back to the Lower East Side, even if I ended up in Manhattan for college,
Noodle Village summoned me

I had spent the better part of my first semester wishing that I had people who cared about me,
Maybe it was seasonal depression, I’d never been somewhere so cold,
Or my large social circle, a second family, I’d say, existing outside of school
And as soon as the spring semester started, I was invited to eat soup dumplings,
One of my friends got soju
soju, soju, soju
I was too anxious to take a drink

r u still taking astronomy at rose hill? I had sent the message to a mutual friend, striking conversation,
Sometimes friendship comes easy, 
Just as sitting beside the yellow antichrist,
I think that she’s been cracked and bleached in the sun