the heartache of a scholar

written in class...i sware i should be paying attention

Today,

My professor started class with

"The infamous El Paso allergies

seem to have gotten the best of me,"

but i knew better.

 

The milk of her eyes

mixed with nestle strawberry,

the blue of her pupil

puffed gas to the surrounding skin

like a child's hand

on a hot iron,

puffy,

and i've

had my heart broken

more than a hundred times before

and it's like saying

"real recognize real"

so pain could recognize pain

and when she says

"franz fanon was a

very rightous man"

her voice cracks on "man"

and this harvard educated

doctorate, professor of post-colonial

suddenly seems vulnerable

so naked that

I could see her bones shake

through her skin

and she keeps saying

"the benedryl is getting the best of me"

yet only I understand

benedryl as heartbreak

that runs through her body

like benedryl

placing her mind on the train tracks

of love lost locomotives

that may cause drowsiness

and only i see

that frown

hidden in a false comforting smile

 

yet then again

 

she rubs her nose and sneezes

as if it were allergies

and, perhaps, it is just me

reflecting my broken heart

off of her

because misery loves company

and if it's ok for a scholar

to cry from a broken heart

then it is ok

for me to cry too.