College Years


My youth vanished 
in the rear-view mirror
of a 1963 sea-foam green Impala, 
as I headed off to college, 
and the beginnings of socialization.
I recall sitting around the bars at night,
scanning the dance floor for
hours at a time. The smoke filled rooms
always seemed fake to me, maybe they were,
and in the last call hour I watched
the couples and singles going by.
The men and the women,
usually young and usually white
and I too, young at the time
and always white
but hardly fooled by the 
paleness of my color.
College was a place to
hide. I could swipe away 
my future potential,
virtually unmolested,
except for the bill collectors
that spoke about payment
with unblinking eyes
and hands held out for more
that was plenty for me
more was always
enough.

There was something about
going to college, though.
It didn't make me feel guilty
I had no feeling for the
monetary things so many others
wanted, and thereby became needed. 
It offered me some form of escape
into the adult world. At that time in my life
being an adult was very important.
The blindness and brashness
of youth is long gone
and I never did finish college
but somehow feel educated
because of the experience.