Hi,
This is a true story, from the early 80's. In poetry format.
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| AI generated |
(waves finger) Mark my words.
I did not have to try
To not listen to my teachers
They never said anything that interested me
The only words I can remember
Is that ‘if you keep this up
You’ll never amount to a thing.’
Maybe she was right
Poets and writers don’t earn much
If that’s what she meant
And I’m certain she relished her own words
As she told my parents the same thing
In the early days of parent/teachers interviews
When my folks actively participated
In these ego crunching affairs
When there was still a little hope for me.
Exactly a decade later
After I had left school without completion
Securing that teacher’s prediction
(and I’m sure I was not the only one)
My father ran into this same woman
Who gleefully asked him
With wetness inducing anticipation
What had become of his son.
‘Oh, he’s managing an upmarket restaurant/cocktail bar
In one of the most
Prestigious suburbs of London.’
Her chin dropped to her knees
And her crotch hit the pavement
Splat.
And least that’s how I like to think of it
The rest is bona fide solid
Unlike her theory.
Peace
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