novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- what remains lasts for a reason. Drove over to the campus tonight. Driving through its hundred-year-old gates felt roughly like visiting my home town: things happened here. Like walking into a photo album. Parked by the book arts studio. Closed, lights off. Couldn't get up on the roof so I walked around, following dark asphalt pathways past the hall, past my old office window where hundreds of ladybugs invaded one day, climbing up on the ceiling and entering the second floor, their bright slick backs glistening against walls of gray semi-gloss. Ran my fingers against petals jutting out from one of many well-tended flower bushes dotting the school. Walked by the greenhouse, co-op, tea shop. Ran into the greenhouse skunk, toddling ever after. Passed that sculpture of what seems like a broken metal pancake standing on a patch of raised lawn. I remembered when I realized it turned on a radius, and how I climbed it and sat on top. Drea or Sam or someone spun me around. When I jumped off I ripped a hole in my pants. Those were my favorite pants. Crossed the courtyard and noticed that they reinforced the tiny river's sides. Walked down the less-tended path under a canopy of ghostly pine trees, tilted in diagonals by overbearing vines. Frogs, the occaisional student. Wood creaking. I inhaled eucalyptus and moss. Freshly-mowed lawn. When I circled back around I saw they fixed the fountain that never used to work. I'd sit there on breaks and on hot days dip toes, flip flops and all, into the water. I have a big decision to make. 10:42 pm - 03.22.04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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