This poem was inspired by the Read.Write.Poem "eavesdropping" prompt and some interesting professors I listened to at lunch yesterday.
Cleveland, Ohio. Lunchtime. A Lebanese restaurant. Hummus, falafel, schwarma. A philosopher, a lawyer, a political scientist, an historian, an economist. No, it's not a joke.
Undergraduates need experiential learning. We don't have a study abroad office. We have a study abroad closet in the basement of an administrative building, filled with dubious brochures at least five years out of date. The university prevents them from leaving, anyway; too many requirements to fulfill here. I don't believe in so many requirements. Says the man who went to the University of Chicago. You're right; I should have gone to Brown. I think study abroad programs should be the responsibility of individual departments. Break it up, get involved, help them go. This can't be all they see.
A little pita left on the table. Ice melting in glasses. The bill is paid with a Visa. The meal is over but the camaraderie is endless. It carries the conversation away from the smell of tahini and towards the smell of asphalt and Euclid Avenue's perpetual reconstruction.