He
wore a sweater like a bathrobe
And
sat behind his desk like he was hosting
Me
for breakfast. I asked him what
I
could do with a major in English.
He
didn’t answer my question, but he did
Show
me a quotation. I had to turn
All
the way around to look at his bulletin
Board
on the wall behind me. It was one
Of
those things that seemed as if it
Might
have once been written in Latin,
But
it was written by Emerson.
He
asked me what I liked to read
In
a tone that I had to answer
With
the less shackled parts of my brain.
When
he talked he had this smile hiding
Behind
his mustache and overflowing
Through
his eyes. Through his eyes
That
looked at me like my Uncle
Benjamin
when he used to take
Me
fishing down hear the Hood Canal.
I
think I’m going to major in English.
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