Last day [A poem]


  • Anonymous


[A poem]It's Friday, 3 P.M. The meeting is winding down. The lecture halls are down to a bare quorum, just one or two per row, and no one in the rear. The schedule, too, is bare at spots where speakers never came. Displays are being knocked down and repacked while books are sold at half their price; it' cheaper than to ship them home again.