(an attempt at poetry)
The revels are now ended
The careful coiffe of the night before has unraveled
and is soaked with old and dirt and sweat that smells like stale beer.
The pretty dress that fit so well last night
is tainted with pit stains and feels like the uncomfortable
loose skin of an overripe fruit.
Your shoes are nowhere to be found.
They’d be uncomfortable anyway,
so you trot off home in a pair of flip-flops.
(apropos of nothing. I have nothing to do with this year’s graduation. My children all graduated years ago. Just a fragment that popped into my head as I drove home from the store today)