Ringing the doorbell at the campus bookstore
A vintage, pull chain contraption
Antiquated, yet still rather expensive
A lot of fine print within the caption
Education is a self-fulfilling myth
When the public library is free
Pay your tuition into the system
It all depends from what lens you wish to see
She’s alone
In spite of all the adoring eyes
Propped firmly on the pedestal
A solitary witness when lust dies
She’s been up there in isolation
The heroine of the bell tower
A slight teeter in her stance
Still defying gravity on the hour
Her alabaster skin shines at night
A chance to quietly & decidedly atone
The decadence of her marble bust
Fingerprints on her heart of stone
Another teary-eyed princess
With a vintage, tarnished crown
Yet, I cannot stop worshipping her
For who’ll catch us, when we all fall down
But from this distance
I cannot properly love her
Remembering your own aches
The graveyard of broken cassettes
It was always the end of the world
Unconfined angst you won’t forget
Dreams & passions ill proportioned
All lost in a looping mixtape
Those days will forever be with us
For they were the days when we were shaped
Last season’s vintage with coffee stains
Spelling out what we might genuinely need
Hope we might outlive our transgressions
Errant dispatches; all the ones you forgot to read
Captain Q 