I have my own tradition

for the end of the semester

to ward off the ghosts of remorse.

I play John Hiatt’s

“Riding with the King”

as I submit my grades.

He draws a line

across the arc

of my teaching. Done.

His competence

assuages the open wounds

of my own failings.

The virtuoso lead guitar

is a lighthouse

in a December thunderstorm.

And tonight?

Tonight?

Everyone’s

getting their angel wings

cuz we’re

riding

with

the

King.