Capturing Campus: January

Friday on State

images of old America
glitter in Hollywood
rock bands roiling
and German beer (not so German anymore)
with patriotism and Ann Arbor trees
bright green walls, newly renovated
plants at the window (could be fake)
boba and straw in hesitant hands
your friend tells you it isn’t very good
but insists you drink it anyway
and anyway isn’t so bad, right?

Capturing Campus: January

Thoughts before the end

My exam is in two days, and I’d rather pitch my head through a wall
but I trekked to Walgreens for toothpaste instead, so I must be an adult now
living somewhere that’s always alive with conversations
(you wouldn’t believe what I heard in the elevator)
What if I moved to Canada next autumn
I’m tired of discovering myself
to be more complicated 
than yesterday’s inbox 
I’ll sift through it
sometime (not soon)
I’m headed to the party
but the whole world’s on fire
wondering what she said to her
that made her leave
Can I walk with you
I’m so tired
Could you promise me 
that everything will be okay in the end

Capturing Campus: November

Everything is so loud

music blasting

eardrums bursting

fingers buzzing

a jackhammer

to the brain

chanting someone’s name

its indiscernible–huh?

indiscernible shrieking

for joy

for cheer

for love

for hate

because you feel like it

all the talking

lips moving

shifting at the gumline

saying nothing

I can’t hear you

speak louder

say it again

shout it if you have to

drown it out if you have to

Please

I’m afraid I’ll  l o s e  you

between the ringing

in my head

and the cracks

in the skyline

Capturing Campus: November

Parking Lot

I miss parking lot you
the you that dashed on concrete
raced in grocery carts
the you that laughed
until you cried
the you that always knew what to say
to ease the angst

I miss the feeling
of beautiful hurt
like pushing on a bruise
or twisting a tooth
with the tingle and ache
that made me fall for you
without stopping

I miss parking lot you
that I’ll never meet
for the first time
or the last
again