Lighting a candle
And camping out in front
Of the clean, safe student union
For one night in October
Doesn’t make you homeless
Any more than
Dressing up and riding about
Through a city’s polluted river
Makes you an 18th century missionary
Building a school in Africa
Can change the world
But casting a gold bathtub
To your exact measurements
Doesn’t make you thin
Paper tigers
You set out to be the Establishment
And the Establishment you’ve become
Hiding your crack pipe sins
Behind shiny veneers
Can your followers’ cheers
Drown out
The voice inside?
Does it even talk anymore,
Or do you only hear “I want”?
I knew a good man, now retired
Who worked at a good school
He made things safe and beautiful
And helped people with his hands
In a sewer on Christmas break
Or on the street on a Saturday night
At 2AM
He had a modest house
In what was a good suburb
He still lives in that house
Though the suburb is now “recovering”
He can afford to live elsewhere
But he celebrates modesty
He helps when he can
That same school
Now celebrates “value”
In a full-color glossy that
Follows me wherever I go
Like a bloodhound or the IRS
This glossy carefully positions images of
Jesuits and the historic chapel
Between stories of world outreach
And urban renewal
To bring in maximum dollars
From privileged alumni
The school knows history has value
Image has value
And the dollar has value
Buildings have value
Which is why a vacant move-in ready dorm
There aren’t enough students for
Can’t be used to shelter the homeless
Living in 50 tents under an overpass
3 blocks away.
Standards have no value
They just limit profitability
Thus, abandon standards to bring in the dollars.
The lesson was, and is:
“Come here, join the Establishment
And never stop paying us.”
Tuition today, donation tomorrow
Paper tiger, born in Ivy
You nurse your cubs on conceit
Teaching them uniformity and conformity
So even the most woke among them
Won’t realize they’ve been sedated
And their actions are nothing more
Are useless thrashing against the sheets.
John Gregory Dunne was taught
“Don’t rock the boat”
And like a true patrician
Only thought he did
Paper cubs
Don’t make waves
Even when you say you are
Pull on the cloak of conformity
And nestle inside
We’ll care for you
Abandon your dreams, lovers, and novels
Write about “Cognitive Narratology” instead
You’ll be safe here
The poetic canon denounced the one
They secretly called “The Polack”
With his roominghouse madrigals
And diet of cheap wine and candy bars
Despite the Black Sparrow he saw born
And “On the Road” was just typing on a toilet roll
Perhaps the dusty Brooks Memorial
Remembers the days when the school
Followed its mission
But it may take Brick Pollitt
To identify the waste
(7/19/19)
About the Creator
Gene Lass
Gene Lass is a professional writer, writing and editing numerous books of non-fiction, poetry, and fiction. Several have been Top 100 Amazon Best Sellers. His short story, “Fence Sitter” was nominated for Best of the Net 2020.
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