|
{karenge ya marenge} david mcaleavey What teachers think dismays, amuses him, tugging his new red beard. Eminence apparently deludes people, makes them think they’re right. Shutting his eyes, he imagines their neglected desires, dark fears. Impertinence could be a useful strategy, he intuits. Eying the room, its walls, its one door, he feels the shape he’s taking. Breath after breath he becomes more like this box he can never trust. Crises of doubt raise adrenaline: weirdly, self-doubt’s exciting. Death seems to wait outside the door, which makes this a sanctuary. Rudiments of the syllogism allow leaps into induction, crude at first, then with an appearance of grace, from imitation. Liberty never inheres in characters under scrutiny. Passively they do whatever their inventors oblige them to. Sprung free to a new level of conversation, he opens both tongue and mind, though who wishes then and speaks is not the one he was. |
