It's nine
And the college fair is in half an hour
And I've never been to one

It's nine forty two
And I've made visits to seven booths
None of which
Catch my attention

It's nine fifty
And I'm wondering
If no schools seem appealing
Because no majors
To me
Are appealing

It's ten
And I have a collection of eight pens
After trading false promises
To fill out
Connection cards

It's ten ten
And the first college
Asks me
What I find interesting
Instead of what asking
What major
I am investing in

It's ten eleven
And after thinking for a bit
I said
Writing

It's ten twelve
And the young man
At the booth
Has given me
The last book he has
Which is a compilation
Of writing pieces
Of students in the school

It's ten thirteen
And I have filled out my first
Connection card
But I do not keep the pen
Because
I know I will remember the school

It is midnight
And I have read through
The writing book
Cover to cover
And have also
Plastered the name of the school
All over every corner
Of my brain
As well as
My bedroom wall

It is midnight
And I have decisions to make