you fog
your own lenses
Aristotle; sell that
Socrates VS. Gorgas
hog-wash to the
herd of broken-souls
and sing them some-where
sing them some-where
they'll survive,
I should be a teacher
and afford myself such-clothes
and be well-versed and
book-deep but get
beat-down
by the wind,
I should not know how
to buy-coke-
chop-
cut-
and cook it
into crack
or lube a pistol
so I'm sure
it will not jam,
I should not know
the meal-times
of local shelters
or how to stay-
warm sleeping
in the street,
I should not know that
you speak poorly
for a 'speech communications'
professor, and your lips
move but I'm looking
at your feet,
(have you never
walked-further than
from your sports-car
to this building,
or do they sell
disposable shoes
for these sterling
first-impressions?)
you say
I shouldn't
know
the answers
being this-is-
only the
first day,
nor should I know
that there's a world
outside
this room.
Eric Hamilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/professor-aristotle/
