Poem Hunter
To A Teen
Herbert Nehrlich (04 October 1943 / Germany)

To A Teen

Tom's buddy ran a secret lab,
made funny little pills.
The gift he had was of the gab:
'My uppers cure all ills.'

He drove his shiny Yellow Cab
through Walla Walla's hills,
meticulously keeping tab
on all the moonshine stills.

One day a patron took a stab
thus wiping all his bills,
they laid him on a concrete slab,
don't choose this life. It kills.

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 1 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

Powerfully put, Herbs. The rhyme appears deceptively jolly at first, but ultimately it gives the piece its resounding force.
A clever cautionary tale Herbert. Beneath its flippant mask, there is a strong and timely message here. 'When will they ever learn? ' love, Allie xxxxxxxxxxxxxx