The tuition is in fake money and the bookstore
imaginary. Nutrients flow one way. Water
Poem listens feverishly to the building's
blueprints that hover behind desks, disdainful
The hill is unstable, but no one
seems to be concerned. Information
Evaluations and competitions are sold
at the buffet and the condiments non-recyclable.
Poem's degree is major and he has no
effect. Plastic knowledge is his profession;
he plies it with grease and a song. His pension
seeps into the ground.