A Display of Suits

They sit in square chairs
On carpet, shoulder to shoulder
Each a new button up shirt

Armed with black pens
That follow blue lines
Exactly parallel

Like yellow parking spaces
A black tar lot
unending, precise

Statistics: think administration,
The checkered tie
Mirrored in a big commercial window

Think a mansion on green grass
Lavish and lavish
And never in any way

Compared to the street
Nothing about it
Of modesty. Instead

They’re all exact expressions
Of one platform
Each a perfect fulfillment

Of corporate manifesto
University essence. As if
after a lifetime in brown desks

In these red brick walls, the instructor
Made uncountable dreams
Each as precious

On its cream paper
As the signature before
Suppose we could enlighten

Like them, and lose administration
Entirely to the politics
Of black pen and paper

To become ties themselves
Satin, left to no longer
Choke education.