HAZE

He was a legend in the college history department,
a professor with two PHDs.
Feared and respected as a mentor
so many stories circulated about his brilliance,
able to hold students spellbound
with his vivid recounting of some event in time.

Oh the eloquence he possessed,
such an incredible memory for facts and insight,
being so amazing in his presentations
though his tests were always epic in demands,
there was something so satisfying
when you could survive any of his classes.

Age had taken its toll on his reality,
but since he was so accomplished
the university didn’t have the heart to retire him
even after he turned seventy.

Slowly this gifted brain showed signs of fading,
his lectures becoming more and more ramblings,
some voiced concerns to the administration
who gave no serious effort to investigate the problem.

Wasn’t until that day
when his mind clearly was trapped in a permanent demented fog
that we knew it was hopeless,
for he spoke of the civil war being fought
between the North Pole and Africa,
then how there came the Spaghettysburg Address,
which he said was located restaurant in Lincoln Nebraska
where they served Confederate pasta.

Stunned, we endured the hour,
mercifully someone taped his words,
handing it over to the dean.
The rest of the semester we had a substitute prof,
our former instructor apparently retired
where he spent his days
teaching pupils who were not there.