I have a special place in my heart for the U of A campus -- I know which buildings are left open all night, what time the sprinklers are switched on, the best place in the library to have a picnic, and even the cheapest secret DIY meal available in the entire Student Union. In case you need it: that little Mexican cantina sells bundles of warm flour tortillas, two for fifty cents. You'll feel the heavy Thanksgiving satisfaction after eating that paper swathed packet of glue, though for some reason, it doesn't appear on any food pyramid.I can tell you about the best bench spot to appreciate the beauty of Fall, an event that is difficult to see in Tucson, since most trees don't ever lose their leaves. I can take you to a hidden courtyard with a tiny fountain, a tremendous rose bush and the rhum-rhum-rhum of air conditioners that sound just like high tide against the stone cliffs of Encinitas.
I've stood in line to change my schedule, agreed to sign over portions of my paychecks for the next 50 years, bought iced coffee, been the first one into the old Cellar to snag the best wooden booth with the only table that doesn't wobble when written upon. I've watched skaters grind against those ridiculous brass statues, couples kiss inside of empty flower pots and Brazilian students start a pick up game of soccer frisbee at 3:00 in the morning. I've been celebritized by hearing Li Young Li read poems from The City In Which I Love You and giddy when Jimmy Santiago Baca gave me his autograph. This love song goes on longer than In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida so I'll spare you the refrain.
Here is the thing that absolutely gets me every time I put one foot in front of the other on this campus --- I instantly turn back into that student in love with the world. My being fills with lines of poetry, all banging around in my head, hammering to escape through my eyeballs. I adopt the collegiate stroll, know things that you don't know and take the stairs. I want to stay up late and I need an espresso. My pens write more smoothly and I start adding letters after my name. In my never ending quest to figure out the point, maybe it is somewhere on campus, pulling my compass needle toward Speedway and Mountain. I'm making Valentines for my perpetual student.
