I wrote a stupid poem this morning
It was about teaching and my classes
Its inspiration came without warning
While grading papers without my glasses
I was struck by the strange intimacy
That reading people’s writing demanded
I was correcting a paper lazy
When I learned that no one else had listened
Though I’m just her eccentric professor
I do spend the time to read ev’rything
Strangely I’ve become her sole confessor
I’m paid to do more than just correcting
But the truth is that I still can’t grade dreams
Just writing typed & printed by the reem
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