Everyone in the MFA program sat in a circle and closed their eyes and someone said, “This is how I wrote my first novel.”  Someone else said, “I think I’m going to recite my third novel from memory.  I hope no one minds.”  No one objected.  We all closed our eyes and began writing novels while someone recited their third novel from memory.  No one opened their eyes until they were finished.  I cheated quite a bit.  I opened my eyes and copied what the person to my left was writing.  Some of the poets wrote three collections of poems.  I felt a little jealous and couldn’t help but think, “This is bullshit.”  The professor watched and marked down demerits for anyone with their eyes open.  He said, “At least one-hundred and fifty pages.  None of that novella bullshit.”

After class one of the poets said, “There is a place where they’ll give you a bowl of rice and some dirt and they put chicken in the bowl.  I think it’s cheap.  Maybe five dollars maybe fifteen.  Not sure.  I am very interested in this opportunity, but it will be lonely to go alone.”  I went with him and asked the man at the register for a chicken bowl.  The man at the register took out a calculator and pushed some buttons and then said, “No more chicken.”  I asked for the bowl of baby calves.

Picture taken at the bus stop