A Letter to Mr Keating

A Letter to Mr. Keating Your F1 visa is calling you for the last call to submit a paper “To love that strong thou must leave ere long.” We met there with notarization, tax return, Gre and 1099 questions I saw you. Ruthless, unplugged and in a killer mode You asked me with a mode in anonymity, (they served well in AI mode) I saw you, a hybrid of Mahmoud Darwish with a tinge of Michael Nye “Where is the beginning?” you asked. “Did you tear the poetry page?” I asked back, the Hollywood fly over suggested that. Otherwise you have to back calculate with retrospection About GRE, and no, EATON will never be Gloria (Anzaldu’a) I will never meet u And hard core desktop hard disk will make me pay For all those private moments where my brother Chatted, tutored and faced American embassy They are ruthless about north south So only university can help me and you Do you know? What will be your verse for father and son? I tried with Bangla, got fried in Jerusalem They do not provide instant delivery. Once purchased, you cannot take it back. You asked “ exactly what?” “ The holy ghost and Abrahimic faith “ , I replied. “There is no short cut for masa corn. They will sift, and knead and feel the pliant smooth tortilla until taco And sustain with all your feelings inside. No more filling stations with me.” Once benevolent, eventually the reel will be your GRE. Daytime, all day long.