A beginning and end poem
What did I know,
in my freshman year,
about subliminal messages
from members of the opposite sex?
She was older and more worldly,
having just returned from a junior
year abroad.
I was in awe.
I read her my freshman year poetry.
It was all I had.
She urged me to submit it
to the college newspaper
for the annual poetry issue,
but she didn’t tell me
she was the poetry page editor.
I should have known that,
but what did I know?
Her encouragement was enough.
Three poems were accepted.
I was ecstatic!
What was I to do next?
I didn’t have a clue.
She invited me to her apartment
for homemade soup – I accepted.
It’s not what you think.
We had long conversations
over almost daily visits
about exotic places she travelled to,
places I hoped one day to see for myself.
She was very kind to me
and I was appreciative of her kindness.
We dated, if you can call it that,
for the rest of the spring semester.
Then we went our separate ways –
she graduated and moved to Chapel Hill
for grad school. And me, unmoored,
I drifted out to sea.
