The 1994 Assessment

Mrs. Gable had a pen that bled through the page,

a wet, red ink that marked up my youth.

She noted my 'unfocused energy' and age,

writing down a very inconvenient truth.

A C-minus in penmanship, circled in blood,

for the way my letters would tumble and slide.

I was a messy kid standing deep in the mud,

with nowhere for a wandering mind to hide.

Thirty years later, the envelope is here,

and my hands have that same jittery itch.

I’m still failing the same subjects every year,

falling face-first into the very same ditch.