Rebel With A Pension by Mather Schneider

The rebel writing professor tickles his kitty
and sips his tea of the month
in his gentrified safe-space studio bungalow and sighs
the sigh of the high minded.
He performs his sunrise pose on his yoga pad and rolls
his do-goody eyes
at the dirty-fingernailed world
What is going on with all these arse-hats
who don’t care about justice or equality or the earth
who never read Gunter Grass
or sat in a meditation garden with Wai Lana?

The rebel writing professor composes a letter to the editor
at Whole Foods
regarding the dearth of face protection
in girls’ softball camp
so erect and dapper in his Tibetan cap and so comfortable
in his slipper shoes
yet still feeling powerless
that others are vain
and jealous
and have the lower emotions.

The rebel writing professor putters his Volvo home
to social media and herbal bed
trims his Just-for-Men face-hedge
smears sunscreen on his yin yang shoulder tattoo
mounts his fixy bike and he’s off to the park
to strike a haiku
(or two.)

The rebel writing professor presses
the WALK button at the street intersection
a dozen times
like a paranoid harlequin
escaped from the loony bin. perhaps
sensing how the plebeian traffic fantasizes
about flattening his truffly, virtue-signaling ass
onto the palm-shaded Boulevard.

Oh how the poor writing professor has sacrificed
to teach the filthy illiterate masses
the errors of their ways.
It’s not easy trading a soul
for the privilege of giving out
A’s and B’s and C’s
punctuated with pinched notes in one-inch margins
smug with his “hmmms” and “are you sure?”s
giddy with his finger pyramids
referring to himself as “Doctor”
because he wrote a 60 page paper
on Byron’s bunions
and knows how to properly insert a foot-
He takes a certified pride in his choices
of vacation spots/writing retreats
gets 6 “pomes” published per year in his student-run zine
all the while maintaining a semi-regular blog on how to write
and how to publish what you write
(comments must await approval.)

The rebel writing professor drinks his 2 and a half microbeers
on Saturday night
nearly daft trying to craft
his neo-modernist novella
thinking up new ways to cat-knife and butt-lick himself
to tenure
so he can tilt into his Ikea podium
until some janitor literally
has to dolly him away.

Against the dark night
and the dilatory commoners
the rebel writing professor raises his textbook high
prudent not to sprain an elbow
bawdy cad winking at co-eds
and skipping in the rain
(but only after he’s had the flu shot.)

Whom else but such as he would have the guts
to hate the president
to take a stand
against Stephen King’s last two novels
to call into question the humor
of The Big Bang Theory
to rally against ticket price hikes at the Loft theater
and the racist eponym
of Illegal Pete’s Margarita Hut?

This will be his legacy, well, this plus five
36-page “chaps”
of flamboyantly garnished word-borscht

a hushed-up sexual lawsuit

and a single grainy Youtube video
with bad sound
and a virus.

Mather Schneider is 46 years old. He has had hundreds of poems and stories published since 1993 in places like Rattle, Nerve Cowboy, Slipstream, Nimrod, River Styx and Smokelong. He has 3 full length books, DROUGHT RESISTANT STRAIN, HE TOOK A CAB and THE SMALL HEARTS OF ANTS, with another, PRICKLY, coming early in 2017. He divides his time between Tucson, Arizona and northern Mexico, where his wife is from. He earns his living by driving a cab.

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