“For most of my misty life, I’ve applied
a certain technique for escaping squalls
and storms and other uncertain weather
events—a heaving of the chest, a gray
look in my eye, a checkmark in the category
of Keep Your Fucking Shit Together–and may
I say that I’ve avoided practically everything.”
We all took diligent notes by hand except
for those brown-nosers who whipped out
computers and typed like their sad lives
depended on speed, word count, and accuracy.
Hell, looking back, maybe it did, at that.
Robert Crisp lives in Savannah, GA, where he teaches English. His work has appeared in Literary Orphans, Rat’s Ass Review, and other publications. Learn more at www.writingforghosts.com
–Art by Steven Gray
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