Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Substitute teacher

Fifty years ago I sat
in their places,
shy young faces
full of hope,
and expectancy
and not a little fear,
the most important thing
is not the class
or whether the substitute
is kind or mean or both
but what will I do this weekend
who will sit next to me at lunch
will she notice me noticing her
noticing me
will dad let me have the car
I’m 16 after all, an adult, really.

Fifty years; half a century,
what separated a stock market crash
from the ayatollah and his screaming minions
and we’re still worried
about the economy and the Iranians.
What shirt do I wear tonight?

Photograph by X Posid via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

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