The crowd looks up. It seems so rude. Spotlights
Search through the audience. He looks okay,
This ‘professor’, as he comes to the mike.
The tux looks new. Think James Mason here, not
Brando. Oleaginous, perhaps, but not
The first ‘overly sophisticated’
Curriculum Vitae to dance for us.
A-one, a-two, a-one, two three—
Got that? Go…
I’m running. Like the god is darkness and
The lights go out. A kind of stunned silence,
As one and all whisper: that’s it? That end,
It sounded like poetry. But way too short
And minimalist, minimalist in
Extremis, we all think. In the worst way:
‘Borges, Pessoa, Kierkegaard,’ he’d said.
‘All of them giants and all of them dead.’
And then the lights went out. And running feet.