Oily grit under nails
And a passion for cars,
And for speed off the rails,
A collector of class.
Often too late
To our boredom and dust.
To those tired 80s classes
Where we preened our disgust.

One unruly teacher,
Much larger than life.
He sat with crossed legs,
Causing mayhem and strife.
Then one day was broken,
He walked with a stick.
So he talked and we listened,
As his thick moustache twitched.

So precious,
I’ll show you.
He considered his words,
As he sipped from his mug
With its Playboy blurb.
He said, I had fun,
And thus so should you.
Why not try to be lighter?
And life will be true.

Then there were times
When he boarded
Our cheap smelly bus.
Drawing smirks from the back
And far too much fuss.
Who cares? said his stance,
I can travel with you.
For we’re in this together,
In life’s journey anew.

With Hamlet cigars,
He puffed smoke on our dreams.
Are you sure it’s like that?
It’s apart at the seams!
I can train you to look
Far beyond the obtuse.
This rule breaker who cut
Our teen souls loose.

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