On Thursday morning's green spring day
My tenth grade satchel hung with play.
I couldn't imagine but girls and dope.
Words and wisdom awaited my elope.

Who could blame this sexual aphasia,
This yearning and burning bohemian dysplasia?
And yet the aesthetic summer would come
Begot in the pain of nature undone.

Past the thorny hedge on my way to school
I entered a brass and marble world
Where teacher's remonstrance turns the clock
And far-fetched Ginny twiddles her lock

Teachers experiment with open minds.
Injecting tendrils hands to eyes.
They flip the desks' gapping voids,
And place within them their loaded toys.

So there I was bored and dreamy
Awaiting a turn in Mr. Heart's economy.
With pockets of bottle caps in the bank
Now I could buy my White Elephant.

Mr. Heart stood smiling at the head of the class
As I came fingering my shark tooth necklace.
His invitation: "Take your pick my son,
You have enough to buy any one."

The boyhood lesson he made that day
Struck me where my nervous hand lay
Picking Whitman's Calumus from the start
I perfectly pleased my Mr. Heart.