(Noding my homework)

Many years ago, I took a UF class called "Poets On Poetry". As part of the coursework, we had to write poems that met very specific criteria. In this case, the poem was required to:

Within these constraints, I managed to pull the following out of my ass:

 

From Century Tower

Hare Krishnas serve their soul food under the spreading oaks,
I drool from my red-bricked height.

A student poet tries to fit the words "uncertain," "sunstruck," and "interrogating" into a poem,
I silently wish him luck.

I measure with my eyes the elasticity of a wad of gum first in a woman's mouth,
then on the ground, then on a sole, the heel click-squicking
to class, in the opposite direction a uniformed policeman riding his bicycle,
past the group of black philosophers expounding on some virtue or another.

People, late already, push for a place in line to secure a seat on the bus,
It came and it departed a few minutes ago, in a cloud of blue hookah smoke,
obscuring for a moment the disappointment on the left-behind faces.

The peals of Century Tower echo out across the campus -- it is time to go to class;
I grab my books and descend, filled with the feeling of humanity.

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