professors of literature

the one who came to our Ranters readings

parties really where we’d read get drunk

play some music close the show

he wouldn’t read to us just try to listen

those words that meant nothing to him

on the look-out for meter scansion high prose

something he alone understood as the literary soul

the one visiting who loved John Fowles

taught the French Lieutenants woman in class

who I guided out on the undercliff see the place

sliding into the sea where John had sat & wrote

loving his excitement joy at being there

for him then to put his hand in his pocket

pull out a handful of loose change

let me give you this for your time

not understanding my refusal or look on my face

these professors of literature I have known

no idea on people places poets

or words needing thrown

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