the poetry class

when she taught poetry
she'd stand
in front of the class and pace
back and forth.
staring at the ceiling,
reciting poems she'd memorized.
sometimes she'd forget
to set her purse down,
keeping it strapped
around shoulder.
if she saw something out
the window, she'd stop
and say, oh look at that.
a firetruck is going by.
there were times you felt
that you learned nothing from her,
and then other times,
like today, you realize
how much you did.