i am two years rusty of raised hands and witty retorts,
of moby dick,
and the strange beauty of a double-spaced tour de force.
yet the calendar still sways to the school year’s song.
summer seems a slow breathe away,
the taste of pleasure reading on its pallet.
as the band tunes for circumstance and pomp,
i pay off one loan and look to the rest.
i feel alumness to my core.
i am two days from a long haul south,
to see a sister sure to glow across the stage,
heavy with the weight of such success.
to join alumni ranks: here to anywhere.
it’s cliche, perhaps, to dream in classrooms,
of unintended nakedness and unattended seminars.
but in my dreams i often find my way back.
the vision just hazy enough to veil the path.
so i study here –
a simple syllabus of fresh air, food, and findings unaccredited-
and i go, with gladness, to the landscaped lawns that count me an alumna.