CANTO VI: TIGER INN
The lustful
“When you go to Ivy Club folk are gay and arty.
Cottage has good lighting and is oh so upper class,
But TI knows how best to throw a raging party.
Yonder is a buxom lass, and the guy who grabbed her ass
Is just doing what comes naturally on any Princeton dance floor
Where it’s okay to grind and grope and sexually harass.
Be not quick to judge her, for she’s not technically a whore.
The dance floor hookup’s far from the worst–
Movie dates are boring, and buying dinner’s such a chore.”
“They are hot and sweaty, and they seek to slake their thirst,
But all the beer has turned to foam! TI’s cups are cursed!”
CANTO VII: COLONIAL
The envious
“This club looks cool,” said I to Virgil, “let’s check it out inside!”
“I came here once, though it’s been years.
I remember Colonial’s where Fun died.”
The taproom was deserted; Virgil poured himself two beers.
“Where the hell is everyone?” I asked my guide with dread.
“Maybe at the other clubs, maybe studying with their peers.”
“There are many members, and they come here to get fed.
From time to time they party, although it’s rather odd,
But any given Wednesday, this place is kind of dead.”
“Colonial is forsaken– by its membership and God;
Envious of other clubs, except maybe for Quad.”
CANTO VIII: QUAD
The slothful
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,”
Reads the sign in the taproom
Where Quad’s members go to disappear.
Ping pong balls fly through the room and bounce and zoom
And splash in racks of cups of beer.
Their obsession is Beirut, and Beirut is their doom.
“You’re almost done!” I said to one, Sisyphus, a member.
“I was so close! Just one more cup!
But we’ve been playing since September.”
“They’ve been going at this for too long- why won’t they give up!?”
“They’re trapped here for eternity. He will never make that cup.”
CANTO IX: TOWER
The toolish
Built of bricks and sycophants is Tower, home of the tool.
Eager for emoluments, their resumes they pad;
Tomorrow’s bankers and consultants– today’s Woodrow Wilson School.
“They want to be successful, is that really so, so bad?”
“Oh foolish frosh, can you not see their sorry plight?
“One’s time in college should be fun; to see it squandered makes me sad.”
“If you’re too small and weak for Cap, and TI gives you fright,
Not rich enough for Cottage, and not fond of Ivy guys,
If you really want to Bicker, Tower offers Bicker-“lite.”
Hell-bent on career, the tool doth think himself wise;
But as life’s journey passes, he sees naught but the prize.
CANTO X: TERRACE
The sketchy
Late night needs of desperate souls Terrace can fulfill.
Closest to campus, yet farthest from God,
It’s a place where all can chill.
A seductress twirled her cigarette, gave me a knowing nod;
Though I walked out the room, I felt the succubus’ stare.
Urgently I sought a beer as I choked on smoke from pot.
I walked down to the taproom and into a nightmare
Where the air grew thick and rank with beer; stygian darkness near complete
Hid filthy hippies hooking up, groping unwashed hair.
Thought and reason driven out by the infernal techno beat,
The damned pressed in from all around, their inhibitions released.
The din! The stench! The horror! I swooned due to the heat.
In the deepest depths of Terrace, below all the clubs northeast,
Lies fallen from the taps above– root of it all: the Beast.
Steven Liss ’10