a poem about death

I Was 13 Years Old, Practicing For 14.
Eight Grade At Sawyer School In Chicago.
My Teacher Was One Of The Hottest Things
On Two Legs. She Taught Seventh And Eight
Grade In The Same Classroom (Because, Let's
Face It, They're Both The Same Fucking Thing).

One Of The Girls Stood Up And Told The Teacher
That I Was Seated On The Wrong Side. The Teacher
Looked At Her Files, Shook Her Head, And Told
The Girl That I Was Where I Was Supposed To Be.
She Asked Me If A Mistake Had Been Made. I Told
Her I Had Been Promoted, Entirely Skipping Sixth
Grade At My Previous School.

She Nodded, And That Was That.

now that i've capitalized a succession of words,
i'm going back to they way i want to write
<insert smiley face here>

the year before, i had been kicked out of a christian
school for, well, everything. now that i was free and
back in the public school system, i didn't give a damn
what grade i was in. no more shirts and ties. no more
jesus shit that didn't make any sense to me at all. no
more hypocrisy.

fuck it,
i was free.

that year was one of the most influential years of my life.
i discovered up tempo, bold, and positive forms of music
that went by such inspiring titles as D.R.I., Cro-Mags, Black
Flag, The Misfits, Metallica, Slayer, and so on. To my amazement,
these groups also enraged my stepfather. win, win!

i began to wear black.
i ripped my jeans.
i threw shit at passing cars with my friends.
i refused to cut my hair.

there was one guy i hung out with that would
dub tapes for me. he copied Master of Puppets
for me and i went home, tossed it into the deck
and
sat
back in my desk chair for what would become
the ride of my life. i listened to that tape so much
that i wore it out and had to have another one mixed
for me.
that was back when Metallica wanted their music
to be heard, before they were rich.

on September 27, 1986, i sat on the floor in front
of the television as the newscaster announced that
Cliff Burton had died. the backbone of Metallic was
dead, and what was left behind was... mostly dead
too.

but that album never faded in my eyes. it was the best
goddamn thing i had ever heard. in fact, i'm listening to it now
as i write a poem about death.