There's the two guys whose fists collided over a girl,
and there's those students who squabbled for a week on
end over a story.
I don't think my professor quite realized
the ramifications of signing me up for this class,
let alone taking me on this field trip.
I wish I could be remembered for a Trojan war
even if it left the cities in my hair in ruins.
I wish I could live on as the essay the professor
shows off every year.
Instead, I am the girl
who will be immortalized in laughing stories,
as the one who dropped the gum out of her mouth,
down on the pristine floor of a Willamette chapel,
during a poetry reading.
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