Gathering drops of fountain mist,
A wet harvest of adolescent excess.
An expression of either gaping anguish
Or inspired amusement dresses your face,
While classmates swarm your position
Radiating carelessly full of gleeful chaos,
You continue to raise the roof,
Pushing the weight off your shoulders,
One fist pump at a time
towards the stratosphere,
towards oblivion.
After some time,
the merriment fades from the crowd
and bleeds into the wading waters,
along with the dye of the mandatory knee socks
that accompany your Catholic school attire.
This slow dispersal eventually
Leaves you solitary, young miss
And as I pedal away upon my stolen ten speed dream,
I witness your testimony of joy
As you leap for the moon.
Quickly, I turn away,
Preserving the freeze-framed image
Of your climaxed action,
Before the credits roll,
On this, the last day of school.
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