I walk among the
boys and girls of the English Department.
Sad eyes scanning syntaxes.
Fingers tightly gripping the covers of
Chaucer and Blake
to keep from floating off
and disappearing altogether.
It's a classic case of the tragedy of the shut-in:
Catcher in the Rye will never
love you back.
I take my place in the parade
opening my book I
chew each word thoughtfully
roll it around my tongue and
drink deep of it.
It warms my soul like hot coffee.
Maybe that's enough.
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