after Madam Professor
Please let me know you’re happier than
It's not hard. The big thing in my day
(picking up wind-broken branches)
has already been done by more wind,
the fierceness of bare limbs, and kids
crazy with glee to fill a red wheel
with their poetry while I gaze out the
seeing mostly a writing-crazed writing
stressed out about writing
before the school term even begins.
I should be more like that academic
Ph.D. genius of a Sociology professor,
the one who when charged as a prostitute
explained her intelligent instruction
and discourse with professional clients
(while providing companionship)
was what the money was for.
Anything else is a personal choice
between consenting colleagues,
be it college or marriage.