Walking into the building:
Cold parking lot,
****** music blaring from that lifted truck,
People honking;
Glass doors,
Short, insufficient eye contact,
"Good morning!" from the lady who guards the door
With a laptop and a forced smile;
Quick strides,
A pinball-like dance,
Yelling, screaming, arguing, sometimes fighting,
Fake greetings and meaningful silences;
A tiny bubble of social-media-manufactured society,
Without the trials and tribulations
That make one human
Or the experience that makes one sensible;
I can't ******* wait to graduate.
© Ethan M. Pfahning 2019