Goodbye, Goodbye, Professor

A poem

he brushes his tears beneath his hair the clock strikes noon he’s still there, flossing his eyes with fingers making room

the school slashes gaps between lecture that Professor hides outside, I lean over the cold rails and wave his eyes are inside

snapped clasps signal the end of class he’s only thirty the students pour blindly into empty space I’m twenty

the Sun shines behind his pressed suit follow the man what casts his frame onto the pavement a frame like Adam

clouds beat relief onto the broad-backed crowd his deaf impression a familiar head bobs and churns like a buoy our sweet obsession

goodbye, I call to the empty man goodbye, goodbye, goodbye see you tomorrow see you tomorrow