Monday, February 13, 2012


Sleepy. At the desk.

Think. Stir awake.
Think, think, think.

When was the last time you dozed off in a controlled environment?

The classroom, of course, where else?
As she unravels macroeconomics, framed in a long horizontal window with snow flakes on the sill. What else? Drippy coats on shiny metal next to the door. Her lopsided handwriting on transparent plastic, those amusing fumbles with the overhead projector. More? The day's edition of wall street journal splayed open, my scribbles all over. Her sepia ballet flats. That's all?  Another breakfast-less morning. Her voice. The way she says "Modigliani". Her eyes.

How can I not dream?

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