Were We Told in Class to Grasp Mindful Listening

Watching her solo concerto was

scarier than mannequins through glass.

Her pupils dilated; she conveyed riddles

in gestures, hair falling from a middle

parting mussed up by a hand whose

slender wand I could not pose

any spell of defense against. She gazed

at a point above my nose, fazed

over the impacts of positive perspective

(quite unaware of fools seeking God's directive

to blind the fall of lips, eyes, hair

and sound of her voice that made the air

shimmer with heat and music). The lecturer,

suddenly rising, intervened like a treasurer

of time to break the class up for notes.

I scrawled a name below Carl Rogers' quote

on _______ and change. The mind fractures
on reasons. The heart authors its lectures.