Three months into the pandemic,
I'm still holed up in my house.
No classroom, no students,
no, not even a mouse.
My professor clothes are still
hung in the closet with care,
I spend days in pajamas,
unshaven, frizzy hair.
I've no longer student essays,
so I'm writing naughty books.
Trying to preserve my sanity.
I don't care how it looks.
Yes, I'm still a professor,
though one who has no class.
Hungry for human contact,
craving a hot piece of ____.
YOUR ASSIGNMENT:
Complete the poem.
CORRECT ANSWER:
pie 🥧