I still have wild hope on the first day of any new semester. This time, I’m going to learn even more than last time. This time, I’m a-gonna do it up right (whatever that would mean). This time I’ll be smarter, sharper, quicker on the draw. My arguments will be crystal clear. This time is the time.

This poem by Joy Harjo is a good one for days when you’re thinking what I’m thinking.

the sharp edges of clear blue windows
motion to me
from the airport's second floor
edges dance in the foothills of the sandias
behind security guards
who wave me into their guncatcher machine

i am a dangerous woman

when the machine buzzes
they say to take off my belt
and i remove it so easy
that it catches the glance
of a man standing nearby
(maybe that is the deadly weapon
that has the machine singing)

i am a dangerous woman
but the weapon is not visible
security will never find it
they can't hear the clicking
of the gun
inside my head