I’d rather play in the middle of the freeway 
with toxic, inflammable toys 
than reveal any vulnerability 
to sarcastic adolescent boys. 
 
You know, the kind who feign sincerity 
hoping that you’ll take the bait 
then pull the rug from beneath you 
then laugh as you wriggle on the stake. 

I know they aren’t really evil, 
though they practice cruelty enough. 
They’re confuse and  hormonal – terrified 
that they don’t have the right male stuff. 

They hide out in cocky bravado, 
thinking that is true masculinity. 
They don’t know they are a gangly billboard 
of adolescent insecurity. 

And when they unite their forces, 
ganging up all in one class, 
it doesn't matter what you try to teach them, 
you will fall flat on your sweet little ass. 

So I’d rather get a mouthful of root canals 
or listen to fingernail on blackboard noise 
than waste any of my precious life force 
around sarcastic adolescent boys.