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Poor Student Apologies
Tapping keys create poems far faster
than papers. Forgive me, Dean, dear poet the phones at two jobs will not answer themselves. Do you know how often I must rest my pen to let grievances in my ear? People say I am the crazy one, picking yellow leaves in autumn, begonias in my hair for spring, a vulture dries her feathers in the sun wings spread wide. Song birds fly South in the winter but I must trudge North instead. I spill coffee on each day's shirt. Flannels with stripes overlapping. A road map with no direction. Books with empty pages and verses I cannot understand, but fifteen pages due about the hundreds I've read, Morrison would laugh at my troubles. Hemingway would say drink more gin. Have I told you my brother believes in Jesus? He thinks he will fly in the rapture, that I'll just burn with the rest. The click click click of fingernails on a desk. Frogs boil slowly in big metal pots, never knowing they're cooking. I suppose I’ll leave my light sweater at home, and I’ll wait to eat lunch because I hear frog legs taste like chicken.
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