Our real diplomas, we were promised, would come in the mail in a week or so. Flashbulbs exploded from the audience like strobe lights.Nina, Mike, and ... hung together through all of this, passing the occasional comment under our breaths, Nina and I holding hands for much of the night. We got our fake diplomas and returned to our seats, watching, catatonic, as the rest of our class marched through one by one. Why are these so-called "great memories" that people go on and on about-graduations,. I feel my holes clam-clench, salt and fragrance in the wet ocean air - gusts over my red hair, billowing back, spreading out against the lounger. My hand it so wet now, the pre-come oozing. I must taste it - I pull out my hand and lick the stuff off my finger. It tastes like oysters and young men. Now the wetness of my fingers prepares me to stick my finger in, to explore my dark and painful spaces - pushing down my taint, sticking a little to the sides, preparing to enter in. I rim myself with. More

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