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Poem: "Ode To My Bathroom"
Poet: Geoff Trenchard
Jason is white sneakers and black socks pulled up to
his knees.
Jean shorts and a Hawaiian shirt
he can't for the life of him buttoned straight.
He is multiple decks of Magic the Gathering
collectable playing cards
and a hair to gel ratio still in its experimental
phase.
The rest of the class is made up of
seventh grade celebrity impersonators.
Perfect examples to the power of product placement.
Decked out in rhinestone jeans and velour sweat suits
that cost more then I'm paid to teach their poetry
workshop.
Jason is easily the most interesting one out 40
and if I could,
I would kick the rest of them out to watch Elimidate
in the library.
No one likes to admit it, but white trash does not
grow on trees.
You can look at a 12 year old
and sometimes see the obnoxious idiot they could one
day become.
They aren't bad in that 'grow up and sell crack to
preschoolers'
kind of way.
More of the type to drive a Hummer with a
'Save the Planet' bumper sticker.
I don't blame them completely.
Jeff McDaniel says
some people are doomed
just because their parents had boring sex.
But Jason is different,
a ball of nervous ticks and endless Monty Python
quotes
that tell me
mom and dad
got freaky.
He knows more about They Might Be Giants than any
human needs to.
Has read Lord of the Rings so many times he speaks
Elfish.
But not one of the assignments he has turned in had
anything to do with
who Brittney kissed or who Ja Rule's got beef with.
So he's standing at the front of the room about to
read his poem.
Clenching his paper like it was god's autograph.
he says
"AHEM,
Ode to my bathroom.
I am a roll of toilet paper
and my life is shitty."
Now, to the kids at Union Middle School
shit
is not just second banana to f**k.
It's own atomic bomb of profanity
that sends electromagnetic spasms of laughter rippling
threw the room.
The twelve-year-old J Lo in the front row
laughs so hard she snorts
like a vacuum with a mouse stuck in it.
Every day I watch him stare at her
with the unrequited longing you only have when your
still a virgin.
He continues
"I was born in a factory
and grew up in a plastic bag.
Now I hang next to the magazines and plunger
in the constant fear of ass."
In the back,
Eminem's biggest fan flaps his arm like palm leave
welcoming comic Jesus.
Last week, he spent the whole period flicking bits of
eraser
and calling him a homo
till he was about to cry.
Now, Jason's smiling so wide he can barley speak to
finish the poem.
"but today" he says "I am relieved,
because I can smell the three bean chili the family I
live with is cooking
and I know the end is near.
Thank you."
He sits down to a standing ovation.
I shake my head in an awe shucks pendulum.
Later he asks me if I was pissed
I said
"Jason don't let anyone tell you any different:
poetry exists to give the socially awkward
a way to be finally applauded by their peers."
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