Standing in that warm western air, looking over the tables

As beautiful as a full shampoo bottle I was full

Of

idealism,

thinking the season of college searches was a time of evening

where the rich kids would finally struggle and we, I, the poor kids,

would be rewarded for our resilience,

Not yet realizing that I'd grow to love you,

Beautiful boy more than any who'd ever deigned to put their tongue in my mouth,

And now, at the cusp of getting and losing you

Realizing all the fast cars that got me hereto this place in which I realize

I am nothing, never was, always the girl

Who never got ballet lessons and paid for her own acting class at age nine,

Who was awestruck at the thought of having one's own private bathroom,

Humiliated by her weakness

And will never, ever, have anything handed to her

The way she thought it would be that balmy

California

Afternoon that she stood in a courtyard and watched the college representatives strewn out at their tables,

Like tangible possibilities of escape,

And promises of competence and love.