It's The Throbbing I Can't Stand

She was hot My seventh grade teacher. I can remember her name being Valentin But have no memory of what She taught. I would purposely annoy her so she Would keep me after class I was twelve. And my hormones kept me on fire. Bukowski would have understood the dire Situation I was in. The walk home from school was three Miles it made no difference. The night befote one a bar burned down I think It was the mob then in Tampa I rooted through the debris and collected Bottles of wine. Though up until then I'd never tasted Alcohol. I would root through everything turning Over boards to look for snakes. So you want to be a writer our families Feed our muse when food is scarce.