When the Lord fashioned the dick
like a magician revealing a wand with his fingertips,
He willingly filled eternity with creeps
and sent Coach Crandall to assist me with Phys Ed.
Crandall, who rolls out of bed in basketball shorts,
beams every day that he comes to work in basketball shorts,
comes to work with a bag of donuts for himself,
twirls keys on a lanyard around his finger and
swings the keys the other way when they hammer the knuckle.
I mean, we’re doing more than blowing our whistles here,
But Crandall with his monkey ears
likes to get in the mix with pubescent girls,
blocking shots or playing the elbow game on the soccer field—
and whenever I see him leaning coolly against a wall at lunch,
swarm of girls around as he twirls his whistle,
or when I hear the inside jokes he keeps like various little tops
spinning throughout the school, I think
Oh Coach Crandall you sorry douchebag!
And waves of cutis anserina spread across my back—
which means gooseflesh and is a question on the health final—
but that it feels like sprouting wings of resentment is not.
So when he is out of sight I shake my head & pray
what I used to pray for myself at his age, which is Lord
help this kid learn to go home gladly to his loneliness
so he can do his job.
Bryan Owens has been a teacher of English for 9 years in the Houston public school system. He holds an M.F.A. in creative writing from the University of Houston. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in various publications including New Ohio Review, San Pedro River Review, Poetry Quarterly, Boston Poetry Magazine, Inscape, Primitive, The Centrifugal Eye & elsewhere.