To My New Students, a Plea

By Tim Bleecker

When I picture myself I’m at my best,
hair cut a fortnight ago,
skin flaws hidden by one day’s
stubble and lit by a warm, diffused glow
. . . never in fluorescent light looking sallow.

I’d appreciate you doing the same
for me. In return, I’ll picture
your adorable Facebook shot
or elegant Instagram pose
whenever thoughts of you arise.

It’s best not to look too often
or long in the tragic mirror.

Imagine me—if you must
at all—on a moonlit night,
flushed with victory
after a volleyball game
against a team of lively youth
half my age . . . about your age, in truth.

Believe me, I look
pretty good then.

Ignore me in my cubicle
(shared with four others),
noshing chocolate while
grading your awkward,
unpracticed prose
and fighting not to doze.