1/20/99 as if seeking our approval he bounces back and forth twirls and even jumps a
little. then he is monotone, and
his drone falls on deaf ears. he is a clown whose round red
nose has fallen off, and his greasy face paint has begun to
smear. he wants to be our mentor,
yet be our friend as well. he mocks us, yet makes us
laugh with his mockery by twirling
his baton of insults. underneath his professional
attire is a black concert t-shirt
and boxers that are rumpled and
worn; both have seen better days. his hair is thinning; his scalp
shiny. his 5 o'clock shadow is
apparent at only 1 o'clock. his eyes are glassy, and
held up by dark circles that
protrude from his round face. he is tired, yet he keeps
going. we are tired, and our minds are
wandering. he thinks he's one of us, but he's
not. or we wouldn't be here.
Ode to Professor Lorek
by Erin McWilliams