the teacher's conference

the harbor
is a buzz with English
teachers
here for
the national conference.
you see
them with their
books and pads,
their studied
gazes behind thick
glasses
and overcoats
that are too thin
to keep
them warm
in this frosty air.
you hear them
talk of failure
and passing,
of discipline and
homework.
they are so intent
on taking
home with them what
they've absorbed
in the endless
seminars, by nights
end though,
they are sloshed
and quoting
Shakespeare,
on the street,
yelling things like
my kingdom for a horse.
you love
teachers.