Things I've Noticed From AP Capstone; Class of 2024

Semester 1


Sudoku from the New York Times 

Stays open on our computers.

One holds a tennis ball in her right hand as she talks,

Gesturing in neon green.

At least three of us have our hair dyed.

We all talk about leaving. 

Our pictures have been submitted, our shoulders high and smiles hopeful.

Five water bottles sit on the horseshoe table, four people missing, probably three of them out skiing.

One of us wrote that she was here, 

On the whiteboard. 

We all talk about leaving. 

This is how we change. 


One wore blue one day, different

From her usual white, 

And it startled us but brought out her eyes.

One sits and picks at her nails, almost seemingly angry at something. 

We all think no one can see our scars.

We all talk about leaving. 

We speak in different languages at the lunch tables, 

Mixing spanishfrenchenglish, 

just because we can. 

Count the snowflakes as they fall, 

Count the college applications.

Semester 2


Talk about forests shifting, changing.

Different semester now, last one so

Maybe we are the trees. 

It’s time to go.

He plays with a tiny skateboard, jumping it 

Off the edge of his book.

Green slips get handed out more, black tea midday just to stay awake. 

Somehow connect every line of every poem to god.

At least five of us have our hair dyed.

7 water bottles, 15 desks. 

Acceptance and rejection letters of both college, and love, filter through our minds.

It’s time to go.


Energy drinks are mainly what we consume now, struggling 

To stay awake and stay in school. 

Send in college money, daydream about what could be next…

It’s time to go.

We’re counting down the days.

Capstone, senior breakfast, last chapel, prom, graduation –

We have 60 days left now, not that we’re counting…

Counting on sun, orders coming in on time, counting on new green leaves, 

Counting the ticks

Of the clock.

It’s time to go. 

He types in big letters, the question of who we are, and 

Right in this moment?

We are tired, essays and dreams fill our heads.

We’re waiting for the moment we can put on our caps and gowns, smile

For the cameras and say

I did it. I did this, I made it this far. 

All too soon, but so far away…

Sudoku from the New York Times stays open on our computers.

7 water bottles, 15 desks, at least 5 of us have our hair dyed. 

We’re wearing colors we wouldn’t usually.

We all talk about leaving, all rely on caffeine to survive the day, we all think

That no one can see our scars.

Shoulders high, smiles hopeful, dreams fill the room, counting down 

The days, the ticks of the clock, our voices growing louder –

It’s Time to Go. 



18 years old

More by Stargirl

  • Something Called Maybe

    Maybe I shouldn't have lied.

    But then maybe I wouldn't be strong today.

    Maybe I should've let them see me cry. 

    Told them what the scars really meant. 

    But then maybe I wouldn't wear them like secrets. 

  • Been Here Before

    I've loved you for 10 lives

    Quick look to the side, catch your eye, oh-

    I remember you

    Late night talks, separate windows but the same stars, you should just be here, oh-