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Familiarity, Sitting on Benches

Ryan Powell

Familiarity, Sitting on Benches
7 a.m., snowy Saturday morning, January.
Turtle Buddy’s “December Rain”
plays.
When you begin to see the world like I do,
you’ll begin to test it with
order
and linear thinking. Though still somehow
a formal life of leisure, even as a
“loser”
seems at least adequate when I consider the bliss
of the moments beginning freshman year, lying in the
grass.
All of us floating around, searching, and some
in the stars. They played “Take it Away”, and
time
sped by—first cigarettes for some,
ice cream, nervous laughter, Frisbees. I was
alone
after a while, and remember seeing
people from my classes and dorm
swaying
to the sitar. It was hope there. And yet,

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