Revising

Fear? Is that you?

Looking like my professor whose

Voice booms through the speaker,

It feels like he’s preaching about doomsday.

Maybe it’s the suit

Or the stories of kings and research papers

And phone calls to Brussels.

You look more human when you wear

A T-shirt and shorts and speak about the

Little person at home who eats mangoes.

Is that you?

Creeping through agonizing hours

Learning to be, which in French il faut que you sois,

In Spanish many of you are sois.

In English I just am or am not.

Did you know that in Istanbul Can is pronounced Jean

But like the Prime Minister, not like half a pair of pants?

Maybe if I write about you in a paper,

Not an essay, because after all in University

We learn to be mores specific. So on a paper

(Maybe I actually have to write, not type)

I can circle you round in red,

Preserving the mistake, so said another prof.

And then the squiggly red line that leads away from the words

And looks like a cartoon bumble bee’s motion

Kicks you off the page, and you roll away.

You’ve been revised.

I learned something today.