The Fateful Night at Phi Delt

The spring evening came in pink and blue,
The lineup stretched six blocks — there was no back.
The Chainsmokers soundchecked somewhere deep inside
While Phi Delt scrambled, terrified.
“How many did we sell?” The treasurer cried.
“The spreadsheet crashed,” his brother just replied.
“Is that a fire code?” — “Don’t read it now.”
“Someone brought a Hellcat. Somehow.”
The doors swung open. Time slowed to a crawl.
The first wave entered. Then the second. All
The bodies pressed together, sweat and bass,
Until the house became a single face —
A face of need, a face of wanting in,
A face of someone’s elbow on your chin,
A face of cups upturned and phones held high,
A face that whispered: The Curse of DOD, the brothers of TEP have struck neigh.