Here it is- not completely unheralded by the weather forecast and the season
and all the undergraduate credits we've passed so far:
But suddenly- a chilly wind as we walk across the quad, arms folded and coat collars up- and I can see it happening.
you- a spool of kite string,
unraveling before me without a knot fastened to the handle,
and a rope burn, in return, if grabbed a hold of.
me- a passenger in my head, wishing for a lot of things.
Our years of string wound round, unwind,
and the distance between us grows this cold April day.
The sun shines, but the grass is stiff and matted from its long winter blanket.
I thought graduation would feel different.
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