A small white flower blooms somewhere,
in some ugly, neglected spot .
A paparazzo sets his camera down,
and a famous baby gets a private smile.
Every time you thank a teacher,
she finds the energy to do just one more thing
before she goes to sleep.
Every time you thank a teacher,
the darkness slides a little back.
A fussy child eats five carrot sticks
and barely even notices.
Every time you thank a teacher,
he makes another phone call,
for the student who has no one,
literally no one, else who cares.
Every time you thank a teacher,
an astronaut tightens a bolt,
a fledgeling just totally sticks it
landing on a flimsy limb,
a desperate person’s car starts one more time.
But every time you could have
thanked a teacher and didn’t,
and every time you thank a teacher
without even trying to do your part,
your small part (voting?), to deal with
the colossal amounts of garbage
teachers have to deal with all the time,
well, you’re the one to blame because
that pretty little flower’s dead.
That famous baby grows up weird,
and the teachers just can’t even, not tonight.
The darkness grows darker and more.
That fussy child grows up to be
a generally unpleasant person,
the space station is less secure,
and the fuzzy wuzzy fledgeling falls to its death.
Look–there’s that sad sack, late for work,
with a car that will not turn over
not this time, not at all, it’s just dead.
The car’s dead.
It’s all dead and
it’s all your fault.
marniere 