-Angelo Stavros without pants-

When I saw that he failed me in Algebra

I couldn’t complain, although I’d plea for mercy.

I didn’t know a coefficient from a vanilla coke

As I was too busy daydreaming about Joy Liebman’s legs.

Still, a D would’ve taken me over the hump

Of repeating my Senior year.

I said: “It’s a way to rid yourself of my annoying presence.”

But Angelo said: "The F stands".

They’ll be other legs in another year.

That prick.

I begged like a prisoner of war

At the closing distance of bamboo shards.

"The F stands", he said.

I rationalized like a drowning boy grasping at weeds.

“You were great. It was my fault. I think I need glasses!”

"The F stands", he said.

Maybe I shouldn’t have dropped that heavy book
From my desk to the floor last month in his class at 10:35.

The plan was set.
It wasn't even a plan that I'd drawn up.
I was the only one had the guts to do it.

Those chickenshits.

That prick.

                                              B.M.C.D.