Fred Aiken Writing

once i learn to be a decent human being,
then you’ll get it,
what, i don’t know,

because i guess at that point,
whatever sort of nebulous revenge i was planning
would be kinda silly,
and your verbal jab about me being a piece of shit
won’t be all that applicable,
and you probably already forgot you called me that
back when we were acne-hormonal meat puss
smoking cigarettes behind the school,
waiting for the coach’s whistle to indicate
that we all needed to go take a shower,

we smelled,
like teenagers and, as you aptly described,
pieces of shit