[tear] me away: girl crying home

i wish i could take BYU and put it in a bottle and take it with me wherever i go.  then, at any time, i could open it up and be in the MOA, early on a Friday afternoon, wandering in from a long week, beginning my weekend with a little art and the mysterious smell of hot paninis, cheese, soup.  i could be sitting at those solid maple tables on the fifth floor, or the Periodicals, caressing out the last few parts of a term paper about Shakespeare.  i would be eating a Subway sandwich, no, a Scoreboard hamburger and frenchfries with lots of fry sauce at a table in the Wilk, watching people, wrestling a crossword puzzle.  i'd be meeting with a study group while the sun is setting, fifth floor study room, by the photography section.  i'd be in the HFAC, painting long after class ended, tender tendrils of turpenoid saturating the warmness, hypnotized, pounding through the paint with Radiohead.  late night going to Hamlet or Young Ambassadors for the second time, always Smart Cookie after.  i'd sit in Rick Duerden's class on the morning of the final [studying near through the night], composing brilliance i little knew i had in me.  eating Subway on the lawn of Maeser with Brooke, faking like we're studying--cramming--for humanities finals.  ballroom with judd and acoustic explosion...  but back to the library i would always return, after dinner at the Wilk, with a few friends nearby to keep studycompany, Tiffany bringing me a bag of double-dipped peanuts to eat while constructing literarys on California and simulacra, 

these memories are sprinkled with gold, they echo of priceless.

and through all of them is a forward movement, a weight of future happinesses waiting and passing, a clean scent of excitement, a clean scent of home.

i don't want to say goodbye.