tuesday/thursday,

I find myself frustrated every

Tuesday and Thursday. From 11-2

I sit in a plastic chair while my brain

atrophies and slips through my ears

and nose. I try to use my hands to catch

even a little bit of the grey stuff,

a last ditch effort of self-preservation.

My attempts seem futile.

For the first ninety minutes I stare in

awe at two central figures: rosey cheeks wears khakis religiously,

while the sage is unaware of the kippah lying on his head.

They seem to be searching for the perfect answer

without knowing the question

and they aren’t disappointed when eager students

chirp and flap their wings, preparing for a lift off that won’t come.

I do my best by sitting in the corner,

observing and taking hurried notes through

horned-rims.

Rarely do I chirp or flap, knowing that the others

understand the questions before they’re asked.

A second ninety minutes is almost too painful

and a mighty Mississippi intrudes during the ten minute break,

flowing down the center of the room.

This Maginot Line divides the students, natives on one side,

foreigners on the other.

A grey headed rooster sits on the edge of a government sealed

desk and asks inane questions,

never expecting an answer.

It’s a one man show.

I participate in earnest here, pulling out all the tricks to impress

and stupefy my young classmates.

There’s no clucking or skittering around here, these spring

chickens know when they’re beat.