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Can you make a friend— like a craft project?
I know, I hear this parental voice, “just be yourself.”

All of my classes this semester will be in one building, but I’m a control freak, I wanted to walk my schedule, go class to class, like I will on my first day. I have a locker too—this is so high school—but I wanted to find it, try the combination and plan what I’ll carry. I have questions too, like how’s the wi-fi, are there charging outlets, and where can I get coffee?

Orientation is Tuesday—but who can wait until Tuesday? Classes start Wednesday.  I’d never sleep this weekend with so many questions. I’m already having dreams where I’m lost, late and embarrassed.

So there I was, this morning, dressed for class with my green messenger bag—doing it—schedule in hand. I went into a small auditorium with cushioned, crimson, theater seating—where my first class will be—and there’s this other girl, dressed for class, schedule in hand.

We were like twins, except she’s tall and black and I’m not. Right off she commanded me, handing me her phone, no preamble, no “How do you do,” to “Take my picture.”
Of course, I obeyed, I’m not from outer space. I burst 50 quick frames, as she slightly varied her pose and she did likewise for me.

Her name is Chella and she graduated from Yale last week too, with a ‘Bachelor of Science in Global Affairs.’ I think I saw her on campus once or twice but our paths had never directly crossed.
“But IS "Global Affairs" a science degree?” I asked skeptically.
“Probably not,” she answered, “but some of us can live with ambiguity.”
Her first direct, commanding phrase limns her personality perfectly.
Yeah, we hit it right off.
.
.
Songs for this:
Cruel To Be Kind by Letters to Cleo
Perfect Day by Povo
Are You Trying to Be Funny? by Everything But the Girl
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 05/24/25:
limn = to portray in clear sharp detail
how much poem can
one propose, compose & dispose
of in an Apple watch timed
inchoate incontinent inconstancy
tide-pool of multiplying amoebic minutiae
of a single minute

can you cram a lifetime of
an everything
without filling
the centrific center,
the holy totality trinity ethereal of
birth ~ life ~ death,
one
entirety capsular
summary?

Not I, derided He,
124 drafts accumulated
of a life
heretofore and a
thousands poems scripted
and a thousands yetto come
hereafter!


If only,
I could have loved it better...
cannibalised soon after posting
juicy fruits plucked without hesitation
but to be fair probably unconsciously
streams within streams
rivers within rivers
we all get wet together
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                               “And the Moonbeams Kiss the Sea”


               For A.V on the Happy Occasion of Her Graduation


I hope and believe that at Harvard still
In the springtime of their golden youth
Lovers sit upon the lawn’s green morning grass
Before class
                           and read Shelley to each other
I was chatting to a bear the other day;
He says to me,
"My missus is an angel. Every morning she makes me a cup of tea and gives me a big kiss before I go to work."

I replied,
"That's all well and good, but my missus shags me rotten every night."

The bear looked to the floor and slowly shook his head in disbelief.
"Every night?"

"Yep, every night."

Turns out the poor ******* was on rumpy rations, with the goods only being dished up on birthdays and Christmas.
I showed him how to use Tinder, so hopefully he'll be getting his oats more regularly now.
What did I expect?
To leave a haemorrhage
of violets wherever I walked?
No. A lost son is called prodigal.
A lost daughter is just called lost.
you’re not mine anymore,
but sometimes i forget.
i still turn toward the sound
of your name like instinct,
like how birds are drawn north.

you were saturday mornings and saxophone solos,
the quiet buzz during swim meets,
the boy who held my words
like they were something sacred.

i still see your eyes
in coffee cups and the sun,
still hear your laugh
in the songs i swore
i’d stop listening to.

some loves don’t leave.
and missing you,
it’s a kind of music now.
not always loud.
just always playing.
When you fly high
The fall is hard
Whenever I have a good time and then it’s over
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