“The time has come,” Hillmomba said,
“To get right to the point.
Of goings, comings, hangers-on
And noses out of joint.
Who belongs and who does not
And who’s all hoity-toit.”
Hillbilly Mom protested much
“My body’s not yet dead.
But over it, you all insist
Replacements now must tread.
Right past my room, in front of me
The applicants are led!”
"Why does it take a dozen folks
To interview just one?
Italian Chandelier and my
Arch Nemesis…you done?
Let the coaches have their shot
This party’s just begun."
"Who takes my place I do not care
One whit for that, you see
Pretending that I am not there’s
The part that gets to me.
You can tell me to my face
'We’ll interview at 3:00.'"
"Parading by, eyes straight ahead
Is not the way to go.
I do not bite, I still work here
Why marginalize me so?
Would the Earth stop spinning, eh?
If I waved “Hello?”
"Since when do equals interview
Their future equal peers?
And candidates for admin jobs
Get to query pre-careers?
So many cooks to spoil this broth
As my retirement nears!"
"Whatever happened to the days
One interviewed with two?
The Principal and Super, sure
But not a motley crew.
Just people who are going to be
Superior to you."
"Pardon me," I clear my throat,
"Sorry ‘bout that phlegm.
But seriously, I must ask
And not upon a whim,
How many people does it take
To choose a new HM?"
HM---Perhaps one day I'll see a collection of poetry on a bookstore shelf... and the author will be simply HM.
ReplyDeleteYou are a veritable Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (or Ogden Nash)!!
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteOne thing's for sure...there's no one simpler than HM!
****
fishducky,
Or a copycat of Lewis Carroll.