Professor, I was in the hospital all night
with a morphine drip;
shaking and crying as they
poked and prodded.  Really.

The ambiguous nature of your Philosophy class
makes me dizzy—
so I decided to find the meaning of life in a Starbucks cup,
frothy foam, and the banter of friendship.

Yes, Professor, I realize that I missed out on some key terminology,
not to mention a stimulating lecture
on the importance of faith, but

isn’t faith too personal for these stark walls,
your icy dissection?
I find more meaning in the pews of the local Catholic church
even though I am a devout Protestant.
Plus, the topic of Christ as a battering ram
did come up over my second double latte.

Certainly, Professor, I understand the importance of regular attendance.
I missed out on the chance to participate in colorful discussion—

not to mention how each of my comments is torn ear to ear,
scrutinized, or shunned altogether.
This room becomes larger by the word.
I much prefer this cozy table with its international
creamer choices.

Of course, Professor, I deeply value this class:

*It fulfills the Literacy requirement for what I really want to study.