titles? titles are bullshit.
Finally in Rhode Island, no thanks to the magicians at Continental Airlines, who managed to turn what is normally a four-hour journey into a fourteen-hour one. T. F. Green is kind of sketchy at 2:30 in the morning. Quite an experience, to say the least, but I'm here safe and sound, with all luggage in tow , and that's all I have to say on that. I'll save the details for a creative non-fiction piece.
Move-in tomorrow. I'm simultaneously amazed by how quickly the summer went by, apprehensive about the amount of work I'm going to have to do this year, and thrilled in the anticipation of being able to hug my hallmates hello this year, instead of awkwardly introducing myself because I feel like it's a good thing to do. I would describe my overall attitude towards sophomore year as relatively psyched. I've realized that I'm going to miss my family, though.
That's all for tonight, aside from a poem that I'm going to post because I like it. Nice line breaks, evocative images, excellent cadences... I can almost forgive the fact that it ends in a preposition.
Absence - Jeffrey McDaniel
On the scales of desire, your absence weighs more
than someone else’s presence, so I say no thanks
to the woman who throws her girdle at my feet,
as I drop a postcard in the mailbox and watch it
throb like a blue heart in the dark. Your eyes
are so green - one of your parents must be
part traffic light. We’re both self-centered,
but the world revolves around us at the same speed.
Last night I tossed and turned inside a thundercloud.
This morning my sheets were covered in pollen.
I remember the long division of Saturday’s
pomegranate, a thousand nebulae in your hair,
as soldiers marched by, dragging big army bags
filled with water balloons, and we passed a lit match,
back and forth, between our lips, under an oak tree
I had absolutely nothing to do with.