under the microscope
at the university
on the campus called pentacrest
there is a valley & a dale
on one side of the river
—and just like a mirror
on the opposite side as well
it was the eighties
when the economy was shit
[or so I learned in jessup hall]
all the doomsday scenarios
leaving a pleasant taste on my palate
I remember walking up the hill
what seemed steeper than 45 degrees
keeping my head down
hauling a backpack full of books
telling myself I’m hiking on flat terrain
I always thought the eyes of the faces
would watch me with scrutiny
as if I was some sort of transplant
but in reality I was merely one of them
somehow surviving under the microscope
may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve
jdubqca 