Yet I would go home. I would have supper in Arlington and my brother and sister would turn as I entered the room oh it’s you. I would throw myself down on the couch and I would sing along with my favorite songs. I would close my eyes. I would sing along. Maybe I would go to graduate school. I would get drunk this weekend, meet someone cute, probably make out. I loved to kiss. I loved to get lost in a drunk embrace. Somebody else, to feel I could turn into that, get lost in a moment of not caring. A woman would kiss me one day. I even felt it. Perhaps I would not always live in Boston. I would travel. My life would change. All the details of my life were in exact order and yet I was tumbling in them—out of order like a tremendous wave had hit me and I was thrown off the ship and I awoke or dreaming, or dead I knew not—no I couldn’t speak.
Inferno, Eileen Myles
Such a perfect rendering of that just-post-collegiate feeling.
