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This essay reminds
why I love the mind of Casey Welch
(what does it look like in there?),
maestro of the mini-essay,
Mozart of the major,
conductor extraordinaire of
references, quotations, logic,
the well-turned phrase, a harmonious symphony of
argumentation,
heading toward you like an
eighteen-wheeler on the Pike.
And even the exam itself
reminds me why I love
the spirit of Casey Welch, with chutzpah
galore, unimaginable, like the 60's itself
demanding that the teacher write her
a new question, because
she happened not to know the answer
to the old.
Surely, you've taught us more than this, she says.
So, please, parents Welch, no more daughters
like these two,
this little planet, this poor Earth,
just too small to absorb,
or accommodate.
June 1995