Underhill sitting
at the front of the class
with two of his cronies said,
Hey Coles,
I could beat you
in a fight, couldn't I?
Not wishing
to disappoint him
with a negative reply,
I affirmed his illusion.
He asked other kids,
and none denied
his assertion.
He turned around
like a mafia boss
to whisper
with the cronies,
before the teacher
returned.
I wished I had
my spud gun
and an old spud
as ammunition.
I could have flicked
Underhill's ears
with careful aim.
Or my pea-shooter
flip-flip against his neck.
Condor,
the English teacher
entered the room.
A silence descended
on the boys,
and pens and books
prepared.
Underhill saw himself
as an Al Capone of 1B,
sans scars,
sans cigar,
sans big gut,
just the illusion
inside his head,
and my spud gun
going phut-phut,
you're pretend dead.
Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 2:16 PM UTC
Underhill sitting
at the front of the class
with two of his cronies said,
Hey Coles,
I could beat you
in a fight, couldn't I?
Not wishing
to disappoint him
with a negative reply,
I affirmed his illusion.
He asked other kids,
and none denied
his assertion.
He turned around
like a mafia boss
to whisper
with the cronies,
before the teacher
returned.
I wished I had
my spud gun
and an old spud
as ammunition.
I could have flicked
Underhill's ears
with careful aim.
Or my pea-shooter
flip-flip against his neck.
Condor,
the English teacher
entered the room.
A silence descended
on the boys,
and pens and books
prepared.
Underhill saw himself
as an Al Capone of 1B,
sans scars,
sans cigar,
sans big gut,
just the illusion
inside his head,
and my spud gun
going phut-phut,
you're pretend dead.
school boys and quarrels 1959
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