Valentino
Plump, bespectacled, prim, he minces into my class, takes a grim look around, and loudly exclaims, What am I doing in this pit of slime, this cesspool full of weirdos? He sounds like a poet, I think. It’s not often I get a student who can make metaphors this well. Is he a young Baudelaire, a Hart Crane, a Wallace Stevens? One day a girl says to him, You have […]
