My Apologies to Gretchen Patricio

As much as I enjoy poetry and literature now, I once gave Holy Hell to a teacher who tried to impart her love of the written word to me and numerous others who crossed her floors.


Dear Mrs. Patricio,

You exposed me to Orwell
To Ellison and Poe
You got me to thinking
"Now what else don't I know?"

You proved that my head
Is more than a hat rack
And that closed mouths open young minds
You showed to be fact

It's true that I'm better
Cause you locked horns with me
So finally
I admit it
For the "Deep" world to see

Now mind you Ma'am
I still hate Poe
And Dickinson
With their tales of woe

Bout Dickens
Still don't give a fuck
Books full of mistreatment
Folks down on their luck

Bout Hemingway
Still I sit the fence
(Too much symbolism for my liking)
But the Bard is worth far more
than just a sixpence

Now Kipling,
He's more than just one children's book
Might even seem racist
Upon second look
But he has known war
And has made script for love
Wrote of soldiers strong, hurting, and alone
Finding comfort in duty
and their rifle
and in God above

I'd have never seen the poetry
That is life itself
Had she never made me
Pull Rand from the shelf

Would've never found Ringo
Or Heinlein
Or Card
Had Gretchen not pushed me
And pushed me quite hard

I failed her class once
Wouldn't do nothing she said
But what's life sans expression?
Just blank space better dead

Gretchen
I'm sorry
For the dumb shit I said
I should have had idjit
Written cross my forehead

(I'm so glad you knew 'fore I did
I didn't really mean it)

Like teachers everywhere
You recognized a teen boy
Full of energy
Full of vigor
But just rocks in his head

Thank You
Thank You
And Thank You so much again