What school did you go to?
The clean cut kid asks
He leans in and smiles
Looks down at my slacks
He ponders the question
Quite harder than me
Up and down and once more
No notice that I see
That he's found sure already
What he thinks I will say
There's a ballpark of sorts
In which he thinks I play
My skin is quite telling
My wrists even more
I'm the shape of the piece
Of the puzzle he stores
In his too tightened cap
His hood draped on the sides
As he points his eyes forward
On golden skates he glides
This trick is not new
To the frattier sorts
Of my hometown and country
It's obsession for sport
The one difference I see
Is the age at which thought
Institutional ranking
Plays role in your laud
Maybe I should thank you
For judging so loud
Least now I can follow
Things of which you're proud
It would be such a nuisance
To think you held more
In those pockets so bulging
Sagging down to the floor
And weighting you hard
To the place that you stand
Others widening footsteps
And leaving your land
As the drought of the future
Takes hold in your mind
And the band of the brothers
Tightens, constricts, and blinds
~
