Modern Women Writers
by S.F. Wright
I was running late,
Not that I was
Interested in what
The professor
Had to say,
The class having been boring,
The novels
Tedious.
But I’d already missed
Three classes,
Was afraid
That if I missed
This last one, too,
That the professor
Would fail me.
So, I was rather
Annoyed
When I hit traffic.
And I was even
More vexed
When I pulled into
The lot and remembered,
Upon seeing
A campus security guard
Patrolling around
In an old Ford Taurus
Converted into a
Campus police car,
That the car I drove
Didn’t have a sticker:
It was my mother’s;
Mine was in
The garage.
I parked near where
The security guard
Slowly drove;
And getting out,
I got his attention.
He rolled down his window:
Tired-looking guy,
Around 35.
I started to explain
My situation,
But before I got
Two sentences out,
The security guard
Waved his hand,
Said don’t worry,
I wasn’t going
To get a ticket;
Go to my class,
Take my exams.
He had an accent.
For half a second
I was about to say
That I didn’t
Have an exam--
Just some class
I had to show up to
So that I’d get credit
For being present.
But, of course,
There’d have been
No point in that;
So I thanked him,
Locked my car,
Hurried to my class.
I don’t remember
Modern Women Writers;
Barely recollect
Any of the books--
But I do recall
The security guard.
Not that I was
Interested in what
The professor
Had to say,
The class having been boring,
The novels
Tedious.
But I’d already missed
Three classes,
Was afraid
That if I missed
This last one, too,
That the professor
Would fail me.
So, I was rather
Annoyed
When I hit traffic.
And I was even
More vexed
When I pulled into
The lot and remembered,
Upon seeing
A campus security guard
Patrolling around
In an old Ford Taurus
Converted into a
Campus police car,
That the car I drove
Didn’t have a sticker:
It was my mother’s;
Mine was in
The garage.
I parked near where
The security guard
Slowly drove;
And getting out,
I got his attention.
He rolled down his window:
Tired-looking guy,
Around 35.
I started to explain
My situation,
But before I got
Two sentences out,
The security guard
Waved his hand,
Said don’t worry,
I wasn’t going
To get a ticket;
Go to my class,
Take my exams.
He had an accent.
For half a second
I was about to say
That I didn’t
Have an exam--
Just some class
I had to show up to
So that I’d get credit
For being present.
But, of course,
There’d have been
No point in that;
So I thanked him,
Locked my car,
Hurried to my class.
I don’t remember
Modern Women Writers;
Barely recollect
Any of the books--
But I do recall
The security guard.
S.F. Wright lives and teaches in New Jersey. His work has appeared in Hobart, Linden Avenue Literary Journal, and Elm Leaves Journal, among others. His short story collection, "The English Teacher," is forthcoming from Cerasus Poetry, and his website is sfwrightwriter.com.