#universit
When classes break
we’re on the clock
don’t jam up the hall
don’t stand there and talk
Get out of my way
I have places to go
why the fecking-feck
are people so slow?
I hop down escalators
I fairly run down halls
I get bored in the elevators
I bounce off the walls
I plan ahead
I plot my course
through crowds I thread
it’s almost a sport
Tik tock people
no, not the app
stop acting like sheeple
I need a coffee between classes.
Excuse me,
I don’t mean to whine
but if you’re not at the front of the line
you can run out of time.
Once I can order, it’s no time to play,
“Un croque-monsieur et un grand crème, s'il vous plaît”
and it isn’t a moment before I'm on my way.
as I’m sipping my coffee
students full up the line
as I savor my sandwich
some will run out of time
This swarm of students
are supposed to be brilliant
but they’re too cool to hurry
I shrug - c'est la vie
.
.
Songs for this:
Le Breakfast Club de Paris by Gabrielle Chiararo
C'est Si Bon by In-Grid
Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 2:35 PM UTC
I’ve inherited contradictions - which could be genetic, original-personal failings, or the result of family dynamics - those are like the background radiation left by the big bang.
If you’re in school long enough, you take a lot of psychology tests. In my psychological makeup, a drippy sentimentality uncomfortably coexists with a cat-like indifference. This is probably my French cultural inheritance - is it too late to add that factor?
The seedbed of my current cognitive dissonance is time - I don’t have a lot of time for other people’s issues. Please accept these earnest, unfiltered insights - even if they are laced with caffeine.
I finally got some graded papers back - I wondered if they were shredding or recycling them. I did ok. It was an electrifying moment in an otherwise indifferent week.
Let’s wax somewhat poetically…
*I’m loving the Université.
The architectural spaces,
the concertante ways people
move through functional areas
and the layers of differing sounds
- the heard-like, instinctive responses
to the triggering abstractions of universal signage
- going up or down, yes, no, stop, go -
that send us in well-practis'd directions.
I find the colour and movement,
the fashion mix of high and low cultures
lush and satisfying but you can never get
a cup of coffee large enough.*
enough of THAT.
I’m not a poet at all. You’ve heard of method actors? Well, I’m a method writer. I fully inhabit my one and only character who, in turns, charms, repels, embarrases and delights me - just like everyone else in my life.
Would you buy defining yourself, in little vignettes, as an audacious act?
I write ‘flash fiction,’ I’m told, because it presents only one person’s perspective - but I do it with forensic precision - and present it all with the narrative negligence that defines my work - it’s art, people - on a time budget.
.
.
Songs for this:
new friends by flowerovlove [E]
Tokyo Lift (5am) by Cautious Clay
I Should Be Home by Balu Brigada
Oct 6, 2025
Oct 6, 2025 at 11:21 AM UTC