10:56 AM
Feel the sun on your face. Wind in your hands,
the stale taste of gum in your mouth that will not leave,
Chew,
feel your jaw pop twice, hair in your mouth, eyes. Sticking to your lips.
You feel too much right now. Your friends say you feel too much.
See a group of eager prospective students on your walk home. Tripping over themselves, giddy,
led by a guide. Her name tag says Samantha and
you think of all of the Samanthas you have ever known.
Think about yelling at them. This place is a dump, you’re pissed, all this sun
yet their side of the sidewalk is still brighter than yours.
Don’t yell anything. You’d be lying, anyway.
Press resume on music in your ears, too loud,
look up, the sun grey now, covered by clouds.
12:18 PM
Have lunch. They’re at the table to your right. Don’t look now.
Ignore. Look like you’re having fun.
Nostalgia louder than the dining hall chatter.
Let it tear at your muscle, chip away at your bone,
Let the splinters as sharp as the straw in your mouth
wedge themselves deeper into your stomach, your heart, your hands,
push you backwards, time does a funny thing, it does, memories do worse,
leave the dining hall without them.
The grass is dead, you notice.
1:47 PM
Notice more. Mom’s perfume smell on a passing classmate. The rabbit on the grass to your left,
the dead grass, her fur just too thin for today’s chill.
The ice on your breath, hands in your pockets. Notice.
The sleep you crave building behind your eyes.
The squeaking shoes of the man walking beside you.
Wonder if he’s just as self conscious as you are when yours do the same.
It’s the puddles, the melting snow,
Moisture seeps into the leather and expands the sole.
Walk next to him, closer, so he can hear your shoes and won’t feel so alone.
1:48 PM
But honestly, yeah, fuck them. You’re right about that.
Let it out.
Walk to your statistics exam and think about your hometown.
The rain, a constant plummet.
You hated it, don’t forget.
Wish you could go back.
Wonder if it’s still raining without you.
Let yourself remember that blanket of gray, cold, anger,
wrap it around yourself, it missed you, your mother let it go a while ago,
it’s not warm anymore, she couldn’t keep it warm anymore.
It reminds you of your own anger.
Anger that you feel when the clouds here turn blue.
Anger that you feel when you think about statistics.
2:52 PM
It’s not your fault, you know.
It’s not your fault and you do love this place.
Wonder what thirteen year old you would think.
She thought she would die there. Do you remember?
She thought her hair would stay brown,
her jewelry stay silver.
Do you remember?
2:54 PM
Notice how funny it is, really, how quickly one can acclimate,
how some parts move faster than others, focus on that.
You have your class schedule memorized by now,
Retainers don’t fit in your mouth anymore, you don’t need them,
you figured out how to fit your laundry all in one load.
Leave Marquette hall. It’s quieter than before.
See that the clouds that once loomed
heavy over your head,
now a deep blue in the distance
over Milwaukee.
Alexi Walker is a current undergraduate student with a major in Psychology and minor in Creative Writing.
“Orpheus”, Odilon Redon (1926).