2020 is just another year

This year of ups and downs

I don’t think I’ve recovered completely

Who I was or the way things felt.

And I find myself escaping to memory

Of a simpler time in college.

I think of the women I had known.

The blurred lines of friends or more.

The smells of the forest and weed smoke.

The true joy of walking to lecture

On a brisk morning having read for hours

The night before, with notes in hand

And a Socratic bend toward sparing

With the professor intellectually.

I had envisioned a very different future

For myself and those around me.

And so I wonder who I’ve become.

And what of philosophy?

And what of poetry?

What of physics, astronomy, chemistry?

What of psychology, history, and the arts?

It’s not yet lost to me or is it?

Or am I just lost in the red

Of debt upon debt.

Because I stepped into the race

On accident

And got swept away.