mmdcccxl

Musing Over Teenage Assignments on Anxiety In this Age of
Anxiety; and Envisioning What such Homework Might Be
(In a Somewhat Cheeky and Unfinished Manner; Inspiration!)

I bought a few yards of 
sweet-to-the-skin rope
at Britex the other day,
so that I could bring it to
my Xanax class today, see?
I mean, look, I have this 
soft-to-the-senses [watch
as I demonstrate effortlessly, 
at least empirically] …  …rope.
[Look as I rub it in all the
right places, exposing all
the right places, including
my raw and jangled nerves,
if at all possible, can you
tell how raw and jangled
they are?] [Eyes meet the
intended audience – mean-
ing the skittish eyeballs of
everyone in the room.  Eye-
balls which, upon half meltingly
introducing my ‘rope’ and 
offering my gaze, pop directly
up to meet mine, so swiftly as
to almost exit their sockets.]
My students, amongst their
so-called peers (which ap-
parently include the pre-
viously noted professional
professor) now each and 

all have eyeballs aimed
like a compass needle 
steady on north are at
me.  And my audience fetish ....

[Loud and deliberate as fuck,
please, but coming from an
indeterminate somewhere
in the audience:] “Hey!  
I get 30 bucks a pop for an 
A of any kind.  Excepting
in the case of an A+, for which 
I get at least a half a yard apiece, 
maybe even a double..so Benji,
or whoever, depending on the
needs of the weekend, bettah 
pop!  Holla that?”

I think I’m enthralled.  May I just
throw in right here [clearly,
but without clearing my throat]
“End of dream sequence.  
Come back tomorrow?”   

Yeah, I did.  And I do.