To Paul

Climb
the ladder of success
all that happens is your hand
gets smashed
between
the heel
of the boot
of the guy above you
and the metal rung of the ladder
when he reaches the top
he pisses down upon you
you think God is washing away
your ignorance
when only, you smell of the stench
of piss drenched
academia
So thank you, Dr P.A. of UT
I appreciate your helpful guidance
and your witty Harvard insults
While the pink lemonade sun never sets
on your horizon,
the rain patters, plunks, slaps
the tin roof of my Eastward traveling car
sounds like a spitoon
perfect aim from across the room
I like the rain
Maybe I can't see the horizon
but who cares?

by Carl A.I.

Other poems of A.I. (35)

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