Joe, he kills it in class
with his well-formed questions,
he does—it’s true.
I wish I would have gone
to the same high school as him,
I assume he was popular,
probably played ball.
Alas, I didn’t, alas, I sit far,
far away from his dicey interactions.
Another classmate I sit in a room with—confusedly,
she uses the word “like” more times
than I ever thought understandably possible,
like, oh my fucking god,
if I hear that word once more in rapid succession
I may just leave class early unannounced.
But Joe—back to him, he is like the honey bee that stings,
he is like a one hit wonder from the mid-90s,
he also dies intellectually from his act.
It is tragic like Hamlet, not enough college to know:
let the teacher talk, this is their show.
As a peer I will admit this is fun
to watch and hear and be a part of—
(The professor’s ahem interruption of the grasshopper!)
like the Titanic sinking on film,
like an ungraceful fall on March ice,
or like a public argument growing in volume and irrelevance,
as the instructor says: we are a part of everything…
OOOOWWWWW! AAAAAAHHHHHH! Some theory…
The classroom is full of minds blown.
I enjoy these acts,
but they are painful.
Oh yes, but fun.
Education offers much.