It's been a funky day:
Snapping id card pictures
For incoming freshmen, -
An eclectic mix: from Scandinavians to Long Islanders.
Most of the photos suck, though I try my best;
I blame it on the camera; lie about a faulty flash.
They want me to re-take it; 'No,' I say politely;
'Please come back in three years.'
A kid complains about his crooked image;
'Nothing I can do,' I shrug; 'Think of it as
being post-modern.' Now he's quiet.


And then it happens; Holy Molly!
A string of characters straight out of an SNL sketch:
A girl who transferred in from NYU hands me her license:
Her name is Passion Quick; I do a double-take, but the
Letters still stare at me; and so does she. 'Please put your
Feet in the taped blocks in front of the blue screen' I say;
And process her as fast as I can.


Just when I'm done choking with laughter, on the inside of course,
I'm a professional, mind you, I get another one.
His last name is Ghandi; I'm not shitting you; Ghandi.
As in Ghandi. You know, that Ghandi.
He looks like he's used to the blank stare, though;
He's cool about it, observing my amazement.
'Good Photo' he nods to me; 'Thanks.'


But the best came last; 3:28 pm; just before closing.
He wore a T-shirt that read: Hard Rock Cafe: Amsterdam.
His name was spelled out right on his SS card: Dipshit Krent.
Dipshit. Spelled just like this.
With all of my might, I kept a straight face through the whole thing;
Even offered to re-take his picture, to the dismay of the angry mob
Behind him.


That night, at home, I was unusually giddy; even after the daily Zoloft.
And then I thought of something; a headline I would pay to see:
'Ghandi's Encounter with Quick Passion Leaves him in Dipshit'.