MacDougal ruins the weekend
MacDougal woke from a heavy slumber. He saw how his slobber had leaked onto the papers and he felt more connected to them than he wanted to be.
He ripped his flattened cheek from the desk and looked ahead. The faces of the students were staring at him. One of the students looked just like him. He rubbed his eyes. The student rubbed his eyes too. MacDougal started to speak, “Sor…”. The student started to speak too. MacDougal clamped his hand over his mouth. The student’s hands both stayed where they were. On the ends of his arms.
“What shall we do today?”
Oh, you recalcitrant readers! Where now your thoughts? Where now your questions? Where now, more bloody importantly, your answers? Only you can provide the insight that opens the koan. When is a koan not a koan? When it is ajar. So open it, my gatekeepers!
What kind of teacher is MacDougal, sleeping on the job? Should we sack him?
Does he have a twin in the class? Who is that mysterious student? What’s wrong with his hands?
Who asks the questions? What is the answer?
THIS BE THE VERSE
Wake me up, before you go go
Cos I’m not planning on going solo.
Wake me up before you go go.
Take me dancing tonight.