bob's sunset

i think about my old professor,

dead now close
to two years.

i see his smile behind his red
beard.

a maestro in front
of the class.

half joke, half serious,
never a dull moment.


it was showtime for two hours.

brilliant with words
and wit,

metaphor.

i remember how he rushed us
all out

to the stairwell to look out
a window

to watch the sun set.
the bourbon

that he sipped after class.
the night

lingering on about books
and authors

poetry, no one wanting to
go home
and quit.