I close the door to the four floors where my tutorial.
From here on in, Imperial Decline used to take place there.
The stone and starry Monday night was riddled with penultimate milestones.
My last light-speed essay, how in the hell I could miss it was beyond me
But I did.
I well up with
sentiment, retreating to the laddered staircase with the spooky-clear view.
I shout at the door like it’s the Friday flight I want to shadowbox.
“God damn it! Forty days isn’t enough!”
There’s still rooftops to climb!
Music to play!
Stories to write and off-limits signs to ignore!
Scrapes my skin never withstood, spills I never took,
Drinks I never had and forests I never fell in love with.
Souveneirs and goodbye photos would doom me to my “last” of everything.
But that’s just it.
We were never meant to have it all in Oxford.
A fleeting taste, .5% of my still young
Life, I’ve seen far smaller fractions but I know in my heart that
This is not enough.
Falafel wraps, green bar drinks, highbrow dinners and mirror ponds
Isolation, reclamation, How I found my
self in the daily meditations more than anything else.
This 3300 mile roller coaster has only whet my appetite for what’s to come.