By Thomas Page
My many years can be summed in on a transcript
Marking each of my earned three-hours with a letter
And a decimal’d point to a larger number
That makes me summa or magne or not
At the end of it all on a May day.
Can I sum it all up in a poem that will go with the tide?
Something that I should have learned in biology but did not
Or rot like a body in the hollowed ditch behind Marist?
Or maybe hold its place among the anthologies lugged by future Majors
Only remembered on the comps of senior year?
Or maybe it will change like the sandwich place in the Pryz every semester
Or be as consistent as the need for caffeine from certain coffee-shops
Sitting above the courts inside and out?
Can I sum up everything that every was in my education,
Forgetting the silent moments lost like a leaf in a tornado
That only reappear when it all settles
In some alumni-minded event or correspondence?
Certainly not me.