Everyday concerns
and contemplation are always an imperfect mix. I asked students if they'd done the reading (I had my
suspicions). Only the vet with a toddler had. Turned
out they all—save one, and
she got an A--had two or
three jobs; there'd been a death in the family, a sick grandpa to
care for, and one boy tried to kill himself. Every
day Alex
told us about his run-ins
with the cops: they thought he was breaking into his own house!
He had to go to court! No
sweet sessions of thought, or days
in a rain-drenched garden. In
lists and sums and long commutes our
lives are taken before they end.
Commute my sentences; the short form is for busy folks. The
president's words are short, except for adjectives like “beautiful”
and “tremendous,” which are reserved for walls. A
friend accused of plagiarizing his identity drops off social media.
In my bedroom there's
a photo of him in the cold
San Miguel swimming pool, my kids hanging on his back. I saw
Alex the other day, his arm around a girl. I asked how he was. "Good, professor, I'm good."
--24
February 2017
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