During my academic daze
I labored in studious lament at a small Bible College,
where advanced degrees meant you were god's second cousin,
and a three piece suit
the proof you that were truly anointed as superior,
wearing the unspoken garb of elitism,
cursed be the one at risk of tenure,
who dared to claim any educational divinity
without that appropriate attire.
So I bought one, because they had so many functions
that required this penguin guise,
feeling like I would suffocate from its bonds,
utterly miserable and sweating so often,
for even heat of blistering summers
didn't allow the excuse of demand for this attire.
Every picture of male professors proudly displayed conformity,
faces grimacing with that whispered, "Harrumph!"
And golden rule above all else,
no mentor in that uniform referred to by first name,
woe to the student who spoke of them as other than Doctor.
The halls always a chance to see the proud peacocks
strutting their special brand of royalty,
always looking over their glasses
as you passed them
to see if their shadow still cast a trembling fear,
because they were giants in their minds
having no mortal peer.
Silver trophy winner
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