My Math Teacher

Bald head shimmering in the pale glow of the classroom.
Hands, weathered by age fly across the darkness leaving marks of unknown origin.
Letters and numbers intermingle, multiplying and dividing at will.
His head turns, glasses of pure coal move into view,
Bearing down upon the sleepers and disenchanted.

Hands move, traveling along his snow white beard like an oil slick upon the tundra.
Pacing back and forth, speaking slurred tongues.
He points with excitement at the dark nothingness with his illuminated bar of white dust.

Hands in the distance raise, voices ringing out in harmonious chaos.
Sounds fall on tone deaf ears and are forgotten.