I leaned and loafed
and smiled
and ate and
tried to forget about the semester that refuses to remove its claws.
I checked to see if grades were online about a thousand times.
When I imagined peacing out to this semester, I thought the break would be a lot cleaner.
But I'm still tense
and furrowed.
Tomorrow will be an Emily Dickinson day.
Meticulously, I will read books.
Wrestle with rhetoric.
(It's epistemic, have you heard?)
I'm still waiting for the fog to clear
and when it does--
I will read books
and smile at strangers
and bake cookies
and finally clean my room
and drink mojitos on the beach
and probably miss you terribly.
"I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loaf and invite my soul,
I lean and loaf at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, formed from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same."
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loaf and invite my soul,
I lean and loaf at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, formed from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same."
-Walt Whitman
