Same Old Suit Since 1962  #76
April  1998

My history teacher
reeks of his 
mother's closet.
The strong odor 
of mothballs hung
like a 
      swag lamp
               over my desk,
as he hovered
over me talking 
something about 
Robert E. Lee.
       I wasn't listening, 
I went to the back depths
of the closet. 
Found an old bugle
and tried to play
Taps.