upon my graduation from simon fraser university

most of all i will miss the first-years
eyes bulging, hands sweating
distributing trotskyite newspapers in the morning
attending stephen harper rallies in the afternoon

newborns staying up all night
desperately finishing that last reading
highlighters flashing like emergency flares
illuminating their faces -
the cherubs of the study hall

(though i, too, know the stats:
the percentage of them who have criminal records
who drink too much, who illegally download mp3s
the percentage who were sexually active at 13
raped, molested, gay bashed)

they can be found in the hallways
crying after a career-ending
GEOG 100 mid-term
shrouded by seven of their closest high school friends
who hurriedly comfort them
coo like doves

i see this performance often

a messy reminder that squall
is not only our term for the
howling tantrums of babies
but also for storms

the sky dark
wind relentless
you and i holding on to
palm trees, lampposts
praying that soon
this will pass
the sky will clear
and a new day
will be born,
more tender
than the last.

from the May 2006 issue of High Altitude Poetry.

more of my poems from HAP here.

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