class of '23

In my mind’s eye, I’m at my graduation. I didn’t skip it this time because I’m ok with contradiction. Still, I told my parents not to come. I didn’t want them to see me dressed in purple hues. While families take their photos, I wade through their memories. I touch everyone’s gowns because I like to feel their softness on my fingertips. Nobody can see me because I’m not here. I’m not here but I see your mother sitting on the street corner. I walk towards her and stop because I’m not in the mood to converse this afternoon. I wouldn’t want to change a thing. I imagine what it would feel like to embrace her aged wisdom with my tender hunger. As I turn around, I feel as if I have the strength of a mother. I told you I wanted to cut my hair short for my yearbook photo but I would never want to be a father. There are still things for me to do today but it slips away. Tomorrow will not be the same. I write down my I love you’s and throw them away. No need to say.