IN THE HEYDAYS OF HIS EYES
(taut jeans dancing)

An Anthology of Poetry about Being Young and Growing Up
 
 
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ZIMMER'S HEAD THUDDING AGAINST THE BLACKBOARD

Paul Zimmer

At the blackboard I had missed Five number problems in a row, And was about to foul a sixth, When the old, exasperated nun Began to pound my head against My six mistakes. When I cried, She threw me back into my seat, Where I hid my head and swore That very day I'd be a poet, And curse her yellow teeth with this.


THE DAY ZIMMER LOST RELIGION

Paul Zimmer

The first Sunday I missed Mass on purpose I waited all day for Christ to climb down Like a wiry flyweight from the cross and Club me on my irreverent teeth, to wade into My blasphemous gut and drop me like a Red hot thurible, the devil roaring in Reserved seats until he got the hiccups. It was a long cold way from the old days When cassocked and surpliced I mumbled Latin At the old priest and rang his obscure bell. A long way from the dirty wind that blew The soot like venial sins across the schoolyard Where God reigned as a threatening, One-eyed triangle high in the fleecy sky. The first Sunday I missed Mass on purpose I waited all day for Christ to climb down Like the playground bully, the cuts and mice Upon his face agleam, and pound me Till my irreligious tongue hung out. But of course He never came, knowing that I was grown up and ready for Him now.

 
 
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