I think perhaps I’ve taught too long —
None of my pop cultural references register.
Allusions to Barney Fife, Ricky Ricardo,
Beaver Cleaver, Hoss Cartwright
Produce stares as blank as if I’d dropped
Anaximenes’s or Parenides’s names
at a Tea Party conclave.
Anyone out there have any idea
Who has replaced Eddie Haskell
As the prototype for insincere obsequiousness?
Or Ozzie and Harriet as avatars
Of wholesome vacuity?
If you know, please text me.
The teenagers I teach have never listened to
Mitch Ryder and the DE-troit wheels
Or Wicked Wilson Pickett,
Have never heard Koko Taylor sing
“Wang Dang Doodle.”
When the fish head fills the air
Be snuff juice everywhere
We’re gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all night long
All night long . . .
What’s an uncomfortable kind of old scarecrow to do?
Bone up on Dr. Dre and Beyonce?
Binge watch Modern Family and The Big Bang Theory?
No suh, un-uh, no thank you.
I think it’s time to take that proverbial timecard
And check out of this here career,
Transplant my ass to Lisbon’s Bairro Alto
Spend the uneventful
Dwindling days sipping IPAs
In that lovely park overlooking
The lower, less ancient, sections of the city.