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Epigram For Some Who Used To Beat Me Up
"monumentum aere perennius"
---Horace, Ode 3
Seventh grade: they beat me up a lot.
Ninth grade, they stumbled past, too high on pot.
End of twelfth grade, their minds had stripped each gear---
with unseen demons and paranoid fear.
Three months hence---college---I started Freshman Year.
Assholes, to whom a word was garbled sound:
I guess they learned what went---did come---around.
Each of them died in anonymity---
(in nursing homes or high security
jails.) While, like Horace, I raise poetry
to outlast bronze in readers' memory.
Starward
[jlc]
