Graduation

I want you to walk the stage with me.
I want you to hold my hand as I stride forward to receive my degree,
To hold my clammy, shaking hand, so I know I am not dreaming.
To listen to the pleasant applause that sounds like singing.
But as you escort me out, it seems
That this still may be, but a waking dream.
And I want you to be there, when I say,
What the fuck am I going to do now.