Senior Year

I remember
that senior
year as
one of the
best times
of
my life.

I remember
meeting
the Germans
and drinking
beer
and thinking
this is
what it’s all
about.

I remember
taking them
to DC
as sort
of
an American
chauffeur
but learning
that
there were
new
worlds
for me to
explore
in the balkan
beats
of concert
streets.

And the girl
wearing her
taiji symbol
giving me
the opportunity
to talk to
her
casually
about
eastern
spirituality
when
really
it was her
reality
that I was
after.

And going to Ali
Babbas
because that’s
where you
take a nice
girl when you
want to impress
her with
your shish
kebab skewer
or a fish
dressed
in yogurt.

And I remember
going down
on her
for some reason
in particular
perhaps
because
I never
imagined
I’d be
with a Romanian
when I had
barely
heard of
the country
before.

And I remember
the euro
cafe
with eyes
full of
rage
and charisma
as the beers
went into
my blood’s
plasma.

And I remember
the moments
captured
on the frisbee
field
where I ran
around in the snow
chasing
after a plastic
disk
because there
was no moment
meant
to be missed.

And showing
Rocky and
Chris Farley
to my new
friends
as an introduction
to the best
of what American
cinema
has to offer
them.

And writing
my thesis
on Kabbalah
and Platonic
influences
because I believed
there was something
to be found
in the connection
between the
four worlds
and the levels
of the soul.

And finding
the companion
in the one
professor
which was
lacking in the
other because
he treated
me as a
human
being.

And teaching
for some
reason
my fellow
students
in the classrooms
about
philosophy 101
and describing
the experience
to my Dad
who was
more concerned
that I sent
a letter
with an extra
two cents
of postage
than I had.

And how
impressed
he was
with getting
Phi Beta Kappa
which has
turned out
relatively
meaningless
in my life
so far
other than
being included
in this sub
par
verse.

And I remember
visiting my
brother
in Chicago
and wanting
to see
downtown
but he
encouragingly
showing
me through
the cafe
in the
University’s
library.

And how I stayed
in that abandoned
dorm room
without
sheets
hoping to meet
some
beautiful woman
and entertain
her with
my American
physique.

And receiving
the letters
of acceptance
to those
institutions
which are
so celebrated
by our
national
sense
of esteem.

And planning
on going
to Israel
but changing
my mind
for a girl
who would
break
my heart
into pieces.

I remember
that summer
which was amazing
going to Mexico
and California
coasts
with my brother
and Utah-pian
visions
of surreal landscapes
and mountains
and then
to retreat in
Park’s City
for free.

Only to return
to that girl
whom I would
spend my summer
weekend’s
entertaining
and delighting in
going to
boardwalk
paradises
and escaping
in waves
of emotion.

I remember
many things
about my senior
year but
it is becoming
increasingly
clear
that there
are many more
things which
I do not remember
which perhaps
are even
more important
because
I don’t.