Wednesday, September 21, 2011


I am a teacher’s substituter
And start, almost, from day one on;
It is as if they persecute her
So that they know next day she’s gone.
The kids are savagely rapacious,
It is as though they’re born predacious.
I know if they were kids of mine
They wouldn’t act like little swine.
But subbing’s how I make my living.
It’s more like babysitting kids
Whose brains are nothing but their ids;
And ids are always unforgiving.
Sometimes when on a barroom’s stool
And drunk I think why sub preschool?

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