Summer Session Eve & I look at my syllabus.
My spirit is broken.
Season 5 of my career,
burned out,
sorrowing, despairing.
Where I see ground rules,
a map to the goal,
snowflakes see obstacles.
A dear oldtimer once said,
"Put it in writing,
& make them sign it."
But each year they game it,
find new loopholes,
& I add more.
Now the rules work against me,
not for me,
and every rule's a bomb.
So fuck it.
The whole thing now
will fit on one page.
