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Tommy
Weird Tommy sits
In back of me
And will not ever
Let me be.
He yanks my braids,
Peeks at my grades,
With cross-eyed stares
Pulls out my chair.
And writes bad notes,
Then takes my coat-
Claims he is king.
Steals the best swing,
Then hides my lunch,
Gives me a punch,
Sticks out his tongue,
Calls me “cow dung.”
Right in the halls-
He throws spitballs
Into my hair-
Says he “Don’t care.”
Pokes me with twigs,
Can snort like pigs.
Pinches my arm,
Says I “need charm!”
He’s such a fink!
What do you think?
Wait, could it be
Tommy likes me?
By Susan Burd © 2011
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