The Mhs Class of '77 Chapter One
Re: Thank You to unknown
tom, dick, harry, tam, dame,
or dana from the MHS Class of 77,
though this alum
experiences public education
within lower providence jurisdiction
as a bum
er - minimally partaking advantage
of extra-curricular,
collegiate, inter-mural,
et cetera opportunities,
no not even a figurative crum
well nigh convey an impression of being dumb
bull door, deaf, and blind (with out faith no more),
nor passing love notes from
some anonymous girl, who
(after leaving a teasing message
informed asper getting a smart haircut
in ninth grade civics class
taught by Missus Comly
(do not quote me on my
power fully pointed excel lent spelling,
telling nothing, when out of desperation
I experience primal yelling)
this singular potential fledgling flirtation,
the extent from student,
who appeared morose and rather glum
exposing such vulnerability to be hum
millie hated, and bullied relentlessly,
whereat i wish to be a little boy
comforted by me mum
since that option out of the question,
thus aye didst never meet Miss Mot Toe
(e plumbs e num), perhaps cuz eye whiz numb
body, mind and spirit triage as if inebriated by rum
imagining the fighting spirit within me to thumb
or rather "flip the bird" to those,
this then anxiety prone
metaphorically rolling stone
whose metaphorical diet of worms also included
eating picked over sun bleached
un beak coming road kill crow - how yum
me does that seem, but gnome hatter
how grossly said foul dish
spurred via carrion (an analogy
representing verbal taunting
best left for hitch cocked birds) didst not appeal
not in the least did i give nasty brutes a "what for",
twas fear of getting creamed, fricasseed, irradiated...
Copyright © Matthew Harris | Year Posted 2017
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