Head like a traffic cone, mouth

like a parking garage, teeth meshing

and pulling out all at once, no you go,

oh, a-and you won’t even believe

what comes out of it, words like

“imbibe”, sentences like “maybe

the night only feels dangerous, maybe

silence always does”, paragraphs like,

well, you got the highlights at any

rate and we don’t have all day here,

the point is these kids can’t abide such

a simpering optimist, right, they can’t,

can they, I don’t think so, not with

the resistance we have built in to them

at least, today’s class topic is existential

despair, wear black and write Professor

Larry a poem cribbed from the headlines

of that sad growing heart, tell your friends

it didn’t feel good to say it, you’re too clever,

all this sorry balding fucker gets to see

is shields and grills, but hey at least he

doesn’t give homework over the weekend.