Tuesday, January 10, 2012

The Professor in the Fall

Written 9/7/10

The rake scrapes the cement and scoops

up the red and yellow leaves,

with a clank on the ground.

Wool pants seem like the perfect choice

because it’s windy, but when you go inside

the school building, you feel

the sweat bead on your skin.

The irritating black gnats that land

on your shirt while walking outside,

you hit your shirt, leaving a black smear.

Withered grapes in the dry fields,

that make for no good taste

in an alchoholic wine.

You turn the television on

And slump down onto the couch

To find

--the new nothingness of fall.

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