when we, the groomed and vetted, primed
and ready, settled in freshman dorms.
Recall their Old World boarding-school ‘charm’ –
communal bathroom down the hall
with open showers, doorless stalls.
Now picture your buttoned-down selves,
gentlemen-scholars-in-training
trudging to chapel in Davidson beanies.
Consider the privilege of cloistered life
where you leave your rooms unlocked
and take exams unproctored,
and feel the pride of big-time teams
whose athletes are classmates
who’d come to be friends.
Banish the fear you don’t belong
while you fight the tide of assignments
that will blight your dreams for life.
Suppress the anxious waves of fatigue
as you catnap and cram
for your first round of reviews.
Relax in the grip of a gentle daze
after another all-nighter
eking out essays longhand.
Then savor once more the textures of youth –
the sticky floors of dance halls,
the stink of stale beer out back of Hattie’s;
the squeak of sneakers in Johnston Gym,
the spin of a frisbee against the sky,
the arc of a toss on a flickerball field;
or late-night talks with new-found friends,
the taste of shakes at the M & M
and burgers in the Wildcat Den.
I still smell the tea-olive sweetness
cutting across the quad on autumn afternoons
to tend my empty mailbox.
It was a time before I knew Quixote,
before I crewed the Pequod,
or wrestled in the wilds with Enkidu.
I came to campus listening to soul,
slow dancing to Otis. The Righteous Brothers
harmonized my heartbreaks.
I left listening to Leonard Cohen,
lit up by the late Beatles, decoding secrets
between the tracks of the Magical Mystery Tour.
I would come to fight my faith
as I marked up my boyhood Bible
till the pages frayed and the binding broke.
Outside, our country was coming apart.
War peaked and cities burned,
but a tender spirit was stirring inside.
In ROTC I bore an old M-1,
but wore a covert peace button
on my jacket collar for marching drills.
I joined that ironic boycott
of the whites-only Black-owned barbershop
and tutored a townie across the tracks.
I picked up litter on Earth Day.
Turned on to Thoreau, I found a conviction –
to save the world would be my career.
The time had arrived when cloister
became cell. I broke out early.
My degree came in the mail
while I backpacked across Europe.
I’m happy to have it,
wherever it is.
