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Graphs and Corruption

Bruce Matteson

If it wasn’t so clumsy, I would have named this Poem
“Why I became a tile setter instead of a scientist”
Or, no one’s ever going to call me Dr. (In parenthesis)
It doesn’t even look good for Mister
My work was always too easily influenced by circumstances beyond my controls
  It seems, the devil was always dancing with my data

For example, it was raining the day I ran the numbers,
Concerning the effects of sunshine on enthusiasm
Who could have foreseen the power outage that accompanied the thunderstorm
Causing my placebo spotlights to fail, quite possibly doubling the rate of suicide
Amongst my subjects who may have been predisposed (my professor pointed out)
To depression and self inflicted wounds, being musicians and poets which,
  I chose wholly in consideration of their proclivity to non violence
When being stiffed for a paycheck since,
If they were any good, this wouldn’t be their first time

How, my judge and juror wanted to know, did I propose to log the effects
Of fair weather on dead people and, did I suppose that artists grew on trees
Pointing out that the ones who hung themselves appeared to
Got me little extra credit
Methodology, means, management, my God the myopia, moaned my mentor, tormentor
Career block inventor, so, I’m thinking... magic
And shuffle the data like a deck of cards

Three, ahem, afore mentioned neckties, two standard issue vein drains
A fellow drowned himself in the business end of a tuba left out in the downpour and,
  One genius put a slip knot in a length of monofilament looped around his neck and,
  Tied to a morose cellists bow, he was garroted by a Sonata!

And the sanctimonious twit bade me leave with the traditional
Bowed head and uplifted finger pointing to the exit
“They’re waiting for you” (I envisioned an executioner), but,
The sun was out and a glare off the bald head of the grounds super was like a light turned on.
He handed me a trowel and
I finished out my education bricking the walkways of higher learning.

Years later, I returned to calk the joints of the massive concrete tilt ups in a university addition.
  Standing on the same stones I’d placed so very ago, I thought how, after all
I had quite literally, paved the way for future generations of fellow beaker breakers, truth seekers
Geeks, Greeks, and tasseled freaks and
After a life time of blue collar sweat accompanied by the twang of Hank Jr. & Co.,
I reckoned the world didn’t really know,
Just how lucky it was, darlin’!

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