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LOSING TEACHERS TO A MUG CALLED MIKE

Along with the last moment to complete any homework,

one was instructed to etch name, number and form

upon the tag that lurked within the rim of each new polo shirt,

every pair of trousers and that stretched, sleeved jumper

(better than any other in the house that were just the same).

Without those legal details properly stated you’d run the risk of losing them to lost property,

that orchestrated tub, dead sea stench, of pre-pubescent potpourri.

 

Now, all we wear is the earned income of a bestowed cognomen

and it embellishes the backs of our necks

and we mustn’t forget it’s all we have;

that, and our teachers.

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Written by
tim-knight
English
Published
Jun 14, 2016
Lines·Words
11·109
Notes

coffeeshoppoems.com

Tags
#teachers
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