Monday, March 17, 2014

Without Aces, Playing Solitaire

Things change.  You don't see them as they do.  You begin to question and answer your own questions and answers.

It's an embroiling exercise that expends vast amounts of time.  It takes nothing as a given. Its forceps constrict the mind.

As I said, it's a game of solitaire without aces.  Suddenly the most highly trained and most acute thinkers have lost their common sense.  The Dean shoots the racing gun and the faculty race after theorems of righteous and appropriate exclusion.

Once they have their hands free, they return with a new game, Matchsticks.  It involves the professors proving their theorems on my person like matches which strike into flames.

In the house of cards, everyone's got a hand.

I decline and retreat to my game of solitaire.

I line up my royal cards and numerically-order the others.  This keeps me as happy as I can pretend I am.

Meanwhile the dreams of my students extend across my mind like shining lanterns in the darkness.


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