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December 2, 2022

Professor Snob

grew a beard but it wasn’t a good looking dark one
‘twas sandy blonde brown grayish mishmash

not menacing or authoritative 

more like a skid row on my third bottle of wine today

fashion - if you could call it that

not sagely like a chinese master’s

quoting Confucius or Tao Te Ching passages 

just stringy and unshapely no matter how I tried

to groom it, broom it, shape it

so fuck it

now it’s more gray

like an old salt’s beard

off the ship and onto the docks

it looks right

not one of those snobby uptight ones

Professor Snob I’m not -

- eggheads that live in a textbook 

or in books of poetry written by long dead poets

who nobody reads anymore

and their books are musty smelling

the pages are crumbling; the book’s spine

is broken and has arthritis 

you find them on a Saturday morning 

at an outdoor library sale in Georgia 

in a beat-up cardboard box for 50 cents

and they are overpriced at that

but you buy one thinking you might

get SOMETHING out of it 

so you take it down to a bench by the lighthouse 

by the rocks and water

and with open mind peruse through it

but after a while you give up on it

tossing it into a trash receptacle 

that’s ready and waiting for your deposit