Loneliness in a crowd

(A W.A.S.P. Island Amid Nowhere)

MICHAEL JOHN KOZIAR

At the University of Manitoba campus
(no bed of passion, life, or liberty),
I didn’t have to nightmare
That I lived in a lonely town;
I was in a lonely town.

I was just a number in a cold-think math book
(And I was treated accordingly, as such-a-one),
Lost alone in a crowded town
Most everyone looked right through me into space,
And passed by me with eyes of ice.

Talk about loneliness in a sea of people.
Talk about obscurity plus.
Must they go hand in hand?
Loneliness loves company — and needs it too.
Obscurity gets company — in spades.

The super academics and intellects
Were conservatively artificial and superficial,
Coming in shovels and then some,
And amounting to truckloads
Over the dragging years.

But I did convocate;
I graduated in more ways than one.
This one immigrant has struck back — silently.
“Displaced person makes it.” “D.P. makes good.”
Later this D.P. forgot the U of M campus.

Did they ever feed me canned laughter and bottled memories!
Spare me such fun and shallow memories!
My memories are hidden in my wounds;
And they’re hidden in my wishes, dreams.
Life’s greatest gift is . . . living memories,
And I will always prize them to the full.
I now have three masters degrees in the arts of nerds,
And I have fully valued them as such.
I thank you, U of M, for being to me
(At least socially speaking-wise)
The university of cold knocks.