Office Hours

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The great professor from Harvard
retired to being on Berkeley's faculty.
I sat in his lecture hall
and he held undergraduate office hours,
I never went.

He had been seriously considered for Einstein's
seat at The Institute for Advanced Studies at Princeton.
He - the great professor - was declined as not adequately
quantitative enough for Princeton.
Princeton told me do not bother to even apply.

The great professor and myself had this one thing in common -
we had both been rejected by Princeton.
One day in Berkeley on the way to class
together we shared a chuckle.
I never went to see him during office hours.

Monday, September 28, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: college,humour,university
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Helen Osbourne 28 September 2020

I feel like I have eavesdropped on your memory.

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Helen Osbourne 28 September 2020

I feel like I've eavesdropped on your memory.

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