Professors prefer those ivory towers
lost amoung wispy muses they deify
disdaining the music of hammer and plough
that shoulders weak monarchical airs
Crowing back and forth, pecking at lines
prodigiously strutting scatologists
from gated community to gated halls
enjoying social strata’s stratosphere.
Courting coin with avaunt-garde pith
philosophizing infatuated lumps of clay
the young must believe, grades are at stake
self-awareness left age during the salary race.
Back to the farm this summer, the old man needs a hand
“But you don’t need the farm, you’re educated now”
He and the professor gorge on subsidized meals and joke
about inbred combine pilots and intellectual vegetables.
Catastrophic drought is – educational
And school’s monoculture a single crop
You can’t eat your books, or book a brain
Nor harvest the unlearned lessons of a life lived so restrained.