My Graceful Teacher
Now Dead
For the author of “I suppose we didn’t go to the moon
either”
My baba
never cried
And never
lied
Mama did
white lies
Sobbed
for little men
I will cry
for trust
My
wonderful teacher
My
graceful teacher now dead
Because
Life
teaches victors win
Winners
write fiction
Movies cry
for big fish
Paint monsters
Bad fish
Oswald
Mad fish
Sirhan Sirhan
My heroes
and heroines
Armstrong
flying the moon
Anna
Frank diaries
Me a slow
adult
Learned
slow very slow
Theatre
is life
Life is
fiction
No tears for
good fish
Nowadays
I reminisce
Warmth of
Prinkipo
Baba’s
love of fish
I enjoy eating
fish
Talking long
distance
I speak a lot with fish
I ask
fish why Armstrong lied
And is fiction
bad for Anna
Fish swim
away
Do fish shed
tears?
Do they
cry for fellow fish?
Do I
imagine fish murmurs?
“Let us
not know
Swim free
dance free
Before
big fish come
Big fish
will come
Let us swim
some
Before big
fish come”
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