One student

came to class, one of my favorites.  We read poetry to each other and talked about societal issues as well as writing techniques and the world today.  Now I’m propelled to jump into my day, with all the questions and eventual answers.  Coffee very much working— Thank you, my bewitchingly sexy French amour.  Paris in my thinking, image in head of the hotel, my room, looking down and writing while wife sleeps in bed behind me.  So much fortune bull-charging toward the writer.  Empty classroom again.  Into world.  Writing everything.

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