The Smallest Pond

Hey there, high school teacher,

your talent to rebuff

but when you try imagining

your focus coarse and rough

Your feelings mostly borrowed,

your words ill-gotten gains

your hours spent in false critique

of someone else’s pain

You’re outclassed high-school teacher,

your envy on display

your pedantry a mocking tone

and pretense on parade

(To Wayne Miller: April, 1967)