English 355
They criticize Chekov
and Joyce Carol Oates,
say their language
is inaccessible, boring,
pointless. My teacher
doesn't persuade.
They claim understanding,
deep understanding.
Profound understanding.
The room fills
with fog, they continue
talking. Chekov and Oates.
Even the one couldn't
empathize, the other
can't match the bleakness.
I persuade myself:
there's nothing more,
they just seem bitches.
Words
- Kyle Edward Harris
- "That's the price tag, no discounts, no bargains. Losing my first love was like living in a perfect house, with the perfect front porch and matching dormers where the key finally worked to let me in, until without enough warning, it caught fire and was gone, leaving a thin coat of ash that would gray my life for years, making me cry when I saw a perfect front porch or a light shining from an upstairs window."- The One & Only Aunt Nancy
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