30:30 2014, Day 21

A Good Poem

incubates a fight worth having

says the professor I imagine

for advice. He wears a fair

isle in all seasons and isn't above

a cigarette outside with the class.

His beard is clean but

daunting. On the sidewalk

that leads to work, beside the crack

glassines glowing with dew,

two pink Starburst, still wrapped.

This is the worst flavor of any good

candy. Somebody, somewhere

nearby today is right about one thing.