Writing

Music turn-in day

Is tomorrow.

While really it's just

Placing the papers in piles

According to instrument and part

Trying to organize everything

And hoping nothing's wrinkled

for one more time 
i will sit in the same place 
as I have for so long 

for one more time
i will be the people 
i've grown to know 
love and hate

The party ends the dancing

begins

beautiful mutual

agreement that social-ness

is exhausting.

Bouncing spinning laughing

hair in high pony tails

we're models singers dancers

this president can turn even the solemnest of holidays into an opportunity to say whatever he wants. the gravestones crumble in their fields of poppies listening to him speak. all uppercase. all lies.

I wish I could tell you this is poetry;
Imperfect but acceptable, art, expression, understanding, the solution to some question i could not answer otherwise,

Planning

Every day

Every chance that is given

Scheduling

Organizing RSVPs

Bugging people to respond.

Talking to the caterer -

We can have bourekas after all -

And studying