My average means I don’t have to take final exams.
So my bachelor's degree is a finished product.
I cranked it out, all that’s left now is the walk (May 18th).
Let’s call it my nearly forgotten masterpiece.
My schedule says that I start a 1-year ‘master of public health’ degree in 38 days.

It was my mom’s idea. She said, “You need to keep active” (pre- med-school).
It sounds crazier to me now than it did last year, when I was accepted and agreed.
Now, I feel like some chary, aging showgirl who’s about to be hustled back on-stage.
But what’s life without massive compromise?
Anyway, don’t cry for me. I’m still sizing it all up, I’ll figure it out.

I suppose we’re all out there hustling.
It’s our response to slowing med-school admissions,
those glitches in the medical, industrial education complex
or that’s how the narrative’s shaped, anyway.
It’s not the additional work that bothers me, I’m regular worker bee,

It’s the perma-threat of loneliness.
I’m already packing. Leaving feels real
and I'm surfing this maudlin wave tonight—shading deep blue.
The simple march of time will take away friends I’ve grown to love.
We’ve allegorised and transformed one another by proximity.

I’ve really loved it here.
.
.
Songs for this:
Graduation (Friends Forever) by Vitamin C
Graduation Day by Tony Rivers & The Castaways

Lone leaf hangs onto the branch of a tree on the cliff side,
Nods at the breaking waves below.
The hustle of the wind,
Cause the autumn leaf to fall,
Twisting and turning through the rough air,
Like a butterfly in flight.
Down, down it flutters,
Whispering, singing exhausted.
The diver saw the pain and beauty in the leaf,
Caught it in mid air,
And both shimmered down onto the waves.
Even the smallest leaf must face its destiny,
Saved by the battering waves,
It was buried in the diver's garden.
2/3/2020

Let the thing
We mean to be
Know the thing
We feel we are

A bounce hustling and
Howling mysteriously
Through you

Getting older has never been
In my plans but it's never late
Enough for me to stay