Class of ’03

Assalam alaikum wr  , people.

It’s a time of great transition for me Mashallah, as I prepare to leave behind the city I grew up in and move to a new life with a new person Insha Allah.

It reminds me of a poem I wrote, oh, seven years ago now, when I graduated from high school and said goodbye to my classmates. We’re all scattered around the world now and I often wonder if we’ve ever got as close to the friends we’ve made in our adult life.

Class of ’03

We would live forever.

Claws, wits, tongues

ephemeral feminine muscles

a forest of thorns

the infinite depth of a melted-steel ocean

all the cartoon heroes

Bring your own super-power.

They collided like

muddy monster trucks.

Desire, dismay, the debris of a shattered childhood

prerogative, post-male syndrome, pre-marital relations

muggers and the lack of spiritual mace.

Smell the soggy pillows

the petulant chemicals.

We shared years of unlearning.

the vestiges of broken pedestals

swept into corners and under rugs

bleeding for the last time

We staggered out

As the sunrise began to dry.

Perhaps as the shadows lengthen in an old Spanish port,

As the sun begins to fall in Manhattan,

As the walls begin to sweat in Mumbai,

As the streets begin to empty in Moscow…

We will catch a glimpse of the faded blue rapture

of fleeting immortality

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