Thursday, February 5, 2015

Global Warming.

It was in the sixties today.
It's February.

All day at work,
I ran across campus
from here to there.

I went on an adventure
to the new Classroom Building.
I felt the air
become humid
as soon as I crossed
into the breezeway
that would take me there.

I soon became disillusioned
as I poked around,
and then when I consulted a wall map,
my fears were confirmed.
There are only five or six classrooms
per floor
in this giant,
multi-million dollar
brand new
building
named
the Classroom Building.

Who designed all this
pomp and circumstance?
And who signed off
on these awful plans?

As I went back to my office,
I noticed,
on every side,
earbuds
crammed
into ear canals.

And I thought,
My stars,
we're living in
Fahrenheit 451.
Seashell thimble radios
everywhere.


And then life looked grim.
Everything seemed like
disconnection
and excess
and cheapness.

But before I could lament too long,
it was time to go home.

I pushed open the doors
and entered the warm afternoon.
Students were pouring out
of every nearby door.

The parking lot
was a mess of cars
trying to zoom away from school
as fast as possible.

You could feel it
in the sixty-degree February air,
the collective sigh of relief
of people going home for the day.

Going home
in the earliest
and eeriest
and most dazzling
gift
of an unexpected spring.

I put down the windows.
I got on the highway.
I turned on my
non-seashell
non-thimble radio.

And in a moment,
all my idealistic disappointment
was swallowed up
into the air
and into the radio waves.

Because somehow,
the beautiful weather
was making bad songs good,
and mediocre songs wonderful.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...