Tuesday, November 12, 2013



Being a student
everywhere impairs you
for a life
surrounded by graduates.
It declares you
to red pen stares        
as something                     
unfinished, perhaps
Unfit or a slacker,
you haven’t mastered     
beyond thinking             
even the rudiments:        
Person, Place, Thing.     
Your wide-eyed            
fidgeting invokes
something terrible:
perpetual First Day.
What at six             
annoys or charms      
—the ardent frowns,
endless cross-outs and 
sixty disconcerts          
or alarms. Alumni       
ask peevishly why        
you don’t just quit 
or hire a tutor      
but you know (having
learned this much) that
neither is the point
or could make it better.

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