Salty Friendship Token.

So the other day I was minding my own business, sitting in a nice patch of grass and doing some reading and snacking when I heard a small noise nearby. Whatever could it be?

Oh, hey there little squirrel, want to be friends? Here is a salty token of my friendship. You know you want it …

Come on. It’s okay, little squirrels can eat super-processed corn chips made of a whole bunch of ingredients I can’t pronounce …

FRIENDSHIP ACHIEVED!

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Sunday Squirrels.

Sunday Squirrels

by james bezerra

On Sundays the campus squirrels

rule the place.

Lay in the sun on the concrete

like they wouldn’t dare on other days.

Days when classes are in and

the world is full of feet.

On Sundays they come

down from the trees,

out of the grass.

Their weekday cares suspended.

Climb the walls. Roam the halls.

Conduct classes of their own.

On Sundays

all of this is their city

of leisure:

chittering chases in the Quad.

Gnawing books

forgotten on Friday.

On Sundays if

a lost student meets one,

it will not scurry from the path.

It won’t run at all. Just stand.

Sniff. Survey, as if to ask:

What are you doing here?

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