10 Years Ago on the First Day of Orientation

No longer sick. Very behind on reading. Looking forward to catching up. So here's a revisions of a poem I wrote my senior year of undergrad. Old to me but new to us.

Photo by Shane Stagner on Unsplash

I remember the morning caressed sunrise 
peeking through my window, the summer heat 
dropping down onto me, the sea glass marine sky 
and clouds playing hooky, the thumps and clumps 
of my boots on concrete sidewalks. I remember
the air I released from my lungs when the bus arrived 
early, the trip that seemed to stretch to penultimate 
eternity. I thought every ride would blend together 
like one by one frames of a cartoon re-run. I remember 
the bus passing a wide oval lake—the reflective sparkles
of sunlight resembled fast flying fish—
shaped like the mouth of a surprised trout—freshly fished 
and made one with the newly baitless hook while it wonders
where the worm went. I remember the vinyl hedges evolving 
into emerald spires as noon awoke, the drop in pace 
of my heartbeat as we passed Cold Spring Lane, 
the hastening of my breathing as the peak 
of Loyola came into view, my lips cracking 
and throat drying as I stood from my seat,
how many octaves my voice went up in 
when I asked for the bus to stop,
the quivering shakes my legs suffered 
before they raised from the floor
as I prayed I'd get the confidence
and voice right on bus ride home.
I remember watching the bus trot
on in a puff of smoke and engine 
coughs, the pinch of loneliness 
that bloomed into a twinge 
settling in when I was the only one 
who got off, the faces of high school friends 
then but cannot now. I recall walking to Knott Hall 
thinking the building was the entire college, thinking 
it was larger than my high school 
and bigger than the fantasy from the literal dreams
I'd have after getting the acceptance letter. I remember
the homes that looked like the ink on the mortgage just dried
and the expensive old cars I only saw in black and white photos
but never experienced in person until that day. I remember
walking under the bridge and mistaking the summer 
wind for resolution, the song I would play 
for the first-time walking onto campus,
the eagerness to start it at my favorite part,
voices of every student being one
of excitement and glee.
I remember a smile 
on every face 
but never the features,
that I would not ever speak 
to most of them,
the breeze lifting my jean jacket 
and wooing the goosebumps from my arms, 
the July firework free air tickling my hair 
and playing with a few loose strands.
I still hear the lyrics building up
before rain dropping
into the chorus,
the audible 'awe' that I let slip
from my lips as I saw the student hall
and library were separate buildings, 
me wondering if everyone 
else's first time was this chemical 
reaction of inspiration and culture shock,
and I hoped everyday would grant this feeling.
I remember thinking I would never remember
this euphoria after growing sick and tired
of seeing it for the next four years.
I remember 
that I remember.

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