Sunday, October 1, 2017

Across the Bridge of October

I parked across the river and am going to the University library. Not because I have to do research, but because I want to. The oddity of this condition is the first thing that skews my perspective. The second is the fact that I am here during class, so I have the bridge to myself.

The students who are half my age swarmed around me on their way to class or exercise or whatever else it is I used to do here. Most did not notice me. Diffused by rain, age and my coat, I am no longer even some stupid acronym of desire for them.

The rains come and with the angle of the sun, their clouds render a world without shadows. I am greying now, the outward compromise between the rich sable in my soul and body and the sun that wears down everything.

I feel heavy and ponderous around them because they traipse and flirt and fiercely move ahead to career without the freight of time and memory. Yet I feel elegant in my architecture.

Ambition was a form I lost upon a time, and my style is antiquated. I am content because I am still learning in all this rain.

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