Digital College

fumbling for exotic music,
students turn knobs and kiss-off lectures,
while odd professors cock their heads
like pigeons looking for a date.

microscopic chips chirp electronic music,
while Betty uses her bosom
as a hiding place.

deep in that crevice she stores
outlawed phones, delivering
text messages with her nipples,
tuning in on instant
movies from biology
where test answers float like leaves in an
autumn snow.

crib notes from ancient times
make TV shows, reminding
students of the lost honor code,
trysts with moonbeams are forgotten
and Sally’s Prelude in F offers little
hope for graduation.

desperate, one professor buys
sonic transmitters, using 3-D technology
to burn circuits, forcing
the creative to raise their hands
and answer math questions.

secret trade busts out
the men’s locker room,
athletes begging for answers,
their phones
frazzled and the iPod geniuses
supply them toilet paper
with pen and ink drawings,
anything with correctness
brings favors, best seats
at the game,
and a hot dog too.