when he got baked he had a habit

                                       the habit wasntwas getting baked

less than once a weekdefinitely not enough to develop a tolerance

                                                                        easier said  a cheap date

it didnt take much to toss him

                                that it didnt was wholly dependent on him

while others rushing forwardleading the charge wanted him to follow he demurred

they engaged in the inevitable play of fools which he deemed childish  peerpressure

No thanks I like being high a couplethree hours enjoy its tailend  the residuals

they loved to blaze

                       which wasnt to say he hadnt on occasion

however when he got high now

                                 he had an ulterior motive

he really shouldnt insist now

                                now had been awhile since college

Poetry professor was Irish could speak Gaelic had hundreds and hundreds of classic an not so classic poems memorised stood at the head of every class and began by reciting one exquisitely emotionally

                                                                                       he wouldnt miss a one  was in awe

professor also introduced them to his writing

                                                as exquisite  terribly more emotional

ending  often wiped tears from eyes with a handkerchief

he taughtloved poetry

                         he demanded his students write poetry which was not in the course description

fashion them like their grade depended upon it

                                                   it did

he always sat at the front of the class if threefour rows back he could guarantee something would distract him

didnt take much

                   sitting upfront nearest professor the man never let him down emanated booze

which he thought was kindakrazy

                                    class was TenAM the man was loadedSO GOT MILK?

therefore when poetry was assignedrequired he got stoned

at quarters end one by one students filed to the front of the room stood before his desk where their final grades pronounceddisseminated

                            it one of the few college As he earned

Professor Cillian O’Connor asked him if he would kindly stay after

Of course

Young man, your poetry was consistently excellent, consistently.

Thank you sir

Your imagery astonishing.

Thank you However sir your poems provided outstanding examples anhow coud I not try to  to compete with you

Ohmy, thank you very much, although if I may, and you needn’t share if you don’t wish, might you elaborate on your method . . your he rolled his hands over and over each other before his chest preparation, situation . . . how where you’re able to write?

he chuckled warmly

                       If you’ll excuse me I actually followed your method

My method?

I presume

Yes.  You presume what?

I presume you sit with a bottle of whiskey  oillubricate your vivid imagination

                                                                                     I got high

High?

   Stoned Fired up a joint hit a bong sometimes indulged a sweetsliver of hashishwish I had access to absinthe I have felt the wind on the wing of madness Baudelair . .

. . Les Fleurs du Mal.

Yah

Hmm. I should like to try your method someday.

Funny you should say

                           he went to his breastpocket retrieved a joint I twisted one up for you holding it on end pointing up at the fluorescent lighting fixtures white plastered ceiling he held it out to him  Sir I am grateful to have experienced your class

it wasnt really an ulterior motive

                                    an obsession

high hed split  get some distance between him the carelesscarousers  pen paper clipboard  muse

                                                                                                          readily snatched soundbites  reels

they pestered him

felt it was their job

What are you writing now?

Ive no idea yet

                Just making notes Ideating

Ideating?

           Sounds like that hurts.

Best possible hurt

last week two of rovers moseyed over came up behind him

                                                               You haven’t scribbled yet?should have been a tagger . .

. . Who says Im not

                      Should have been a doctor

Nothing?

          I've seen you flushed with pages.

Unmoved today  Though no worries I have ideas at home

We haven’t moved you?

Not todaynope

               slightly it irritated himslightly  that the bevy falling on their face hadnt interestedpiqued him once

Fuckin voyeur shehe heshe muttered

inwardly he chided them Keep it to yourself I don wanna hear

they shrugged

DON

     Not a word

they drifted away

he made his goodbyes

went home fixed dinner let the silent white page keep to itself

next morning he sat black cup of Joe in righthand pen in left digesting three raw eggs they never made it to be boiled scrambled fried frittataed omeletteed waste of time and energy  looked at the empty page

                                                                                          Whawas tha about

then

      at the bottom of the page

upsidedown

reverseside of a bank statement

looked again

he laughed deeplywholeheartedly

small font all caps

                                        THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK

approximately0830,  Memorial Day – commemorating those who died protecting our Democracy,  27  5. 24

1611,  Memorial Day