They said I was a rebel
To try to grow my hair,
But I was wary
Of the description.
It lacked conviction.
I was no rebel.
I was a square,
Who listened to his teachers,
And saw them
Not as squalid creatures
From another planet,
But as educators
And dictators of the truth,
Not to be tormented and scorned
By a spotty youth.
I thought my friends uncouth
With their loud behaviour,
Caring not a jot for Octavia;
They thought
Me inferior
And called me a queer, while
They spent evenings at the pub
Getting beerier and beerier.
Always cheerier than me.
But not now,
When I am become
A paragon of modernity,
Consultant of prosperity,
Politician with
Pony tail.
They thought that
I would fail
And would
Never have a whale
Of a time.
Oh how sublime.
The victory of years.
The bloody queers;
The nature of
Their occupations,
I cannot guess.
They dared to see more value
In laughter than success.
© Alex Frankel 1997
