That poem of mine you liked,
Or tried to, about my dead teacher
And his green jacket? The teacher
Was mine but the jacket
Was worn by the professor
Who taught Joseph Roth Greek.
Roth has been dead since 1939
And, anyway, always intended for me
To someday steal the jacket.
My old Mr. S taught history and
Actually marked Fridays
By wearing no tie. An honest man,
He'll surely called on Roth's
Herr G. in the pedagogical underworld
Where they live. He'll return the jacket,
Making what excuses for me
His conscience will allow.
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