Crimes

Two more weeks and my stay in college ends. One thinks of endings like these as conclusive, a draw-the-curtain type of ending

like the flock of vans from various TV channels; endings under the guise of ellipses. During the news flash one remembers death in the form of objects: a ten-wheeler truck, a bottle of formaldehyde, a stroll, a Math subject. One dies hog-tied, being stared at 

by trees as they wilt, summer nears. One gropes for the arm of the sofa, for another arm, or that remote button. One expects oneself to brush past these like manuals of an otherwise simple gadget, despite the fact that the pages have always been frayed in the beginning. It all ends

in white: an indignation rally, a coffin, and in April, the snow-like kapok blanketing the campus.