The room feels heavy,
sleepy morning smiles
and satiate English words
clinging to to air.
*They reach out,
trying to pinch me,
as insistent as
the professor's smile.*
Some of us still feel
as we do at 7 a.m.,
though our minds are
overflowing fountains
of new knowledge
as we try to hold
and scoop it back in.
*they're drowning me,
the letters are drowning
and too tired
to swim.*
It's the feeling I get
of a stomach ache
and not being able to tell
whether it's because
I'm actually sick,
or just overwhelmed
with possibilities.
*What will I do?
What will I be?
Maybe I should
just try to focus
on what's in front
of me.*