On Postponing the Bar Exam

[QDeathstar]

Our Crim Law professor told a story why not just Law Professor?
about a robber who shot point blank
into pillows believing it was his enemy.

It didn’t matter, the man was dead already.Im wondering why it was brought up, then?

The professor, an Irishman, drank all semester
from the same cup, which may very well
not have been water, to quell the sweat
forming along his Polo shirt.

And, for a moment, when he stopped,
the light held still on those chairs.

I thought maybe it was something important,
but then it was over,
and he rushed outside to a brick wall
where he puffed down three cigarettes,
and then walked off alone into the Oakland sun.

I never understood how anyone read Criminal Procedure,
then took a Sunday drive listening to Chet Baker.

My second winter in law school, I might start the poem here, the professor doesn't seem to add anything to the poem but awkwardness. A lot of the rest of the poem deals with everyday occurrences, depersonalized through the affect of law school. i like that story better, and it is the more interesting one
stuck in a hospital bed on morphine,
I stared out at the wet streets loose the, add a bit more description
and saw three girls dancing under the stars,
a thin haze around them.
I am sure they were ghosts,
but all I wondered was who would be liable
if the streetlight broke
and fell on top of the little one.i find this satisfying

In a California I will never see again,
late autumn in a mall parking lot
with a woman I was soon to leave,This is an awkward way of saying it
something inside her
was beginning to take back every memory we made. this is weak took i cant make since of it
She fumbled for her keys,
searching for a lost syllable. nope
But we didn’t talk about it, we let it end --
as each shop shut off its light,
and the woman lifted up her jacket collar
as she did when the nights got cold and sleep was near.
I was starving then too.
Only I was unaware if she stayed two months longer,
I would have had a cohabitation claim.

I wrote in the street outside the house where I was born,
because while I was gone, the mortgage was sold in escrow.

For years I believed that what went unsaid
lingered in pure and unexpired silence,
but then I read the Uniform Commercial Code.

I don’t want to die alone with the law
like a poet with his pens the first two lines here i like! they bring closure to the poem, but I'm having trouble making since out of the rest of the lines. I could guess what it meant, but i came up with three possible, but very different meanings... none of them related to the rest of the poem very well. This needs more clarity' especially when the rest of the poem is pretty concrete.
so tonight, I look for you, Jackson,
as a young girl closes a car door.
It is so hot that she rolls her sleeves up.

The law has touched even her
as the stars shine on a black sky.

So sit in the darkness, tonight.
The river will keep running. what? I'm not sure what your trying to say or how this relates to the rest of the poem?

I liked the stories and the twists at the end of the stanzas!