September 7, 2015:

'Oh My Sweet...'

She calls me, as they say, out of the blue.
I’m watching Greenberg and I don’t believe,
For several seconds as I read the name,
That I’m awake. She’s never called;
Nor have I ever had a reason to expect a call from her.
She’s in Women’s Studies—CSU—a senior;
And though I have a nausea (more than half from base prejudice
And that odd pride that is the mate thereof—
The other part from a more reasoned
And defensible distaste for the dens and demesnes of ideology)
At the precepts I suppose that discipline supposes
(Just as, no doubt, its acolytes would be disgusted
At the precepts and positions of the disciplines I love),
She struck me from the first as very sane
And willing—maybe yet desirous—to follow through with reason
And discussion, even—or especially—of topics which cut deep
And closer than she’d like to where her heart is.
There’s not much to describe:
We discussed (I, mostly sounding-board)
A thesis, due the next day, touching on
The many forms in the dark human heart
(And darker human actions) by which we
Turn other spirits into simple objects.

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• Minor edit on 11/15/2025 to correct typo

Sure, it’s getting cramped and toasty, but misery loves company—so why not