JOHN HORVATH JR
BRAULAUTIGER'S MOM

Braulautiger smiles dangerously through cracked
teeth splintered by a boyhood grin so fierce
it made his teacher retract a "B-plus", piss, and
admit to sad truth that no lecture note had been
revised since nine, twelve, Sixty-six when LSD
peaked as an idea that had to be spread. Then
Braulautiger's teacher had quit - what else might
one do-- after seeing those Braulautiger teeth go
snap in that grin. But the patience of Job
in that teen was so great (though you could hear
the murderous thought steam-whistling from his
left ear, see it behind his chocolate glazed eyes,
- I was there - even taste the adrenaline sweat
on Braulautiger's brow) WOW he sat back down
into his row five seat eight as assigned and since
then that day long ago says Sister Mary K-C only
we wee nuns stand in the classrooms of Saint Pete
but enough of such chat, the Pope has enjoined
no more Braulautiger tales than this backup
pre-emptive first-day-of-class syllabus strike.
I just add, you're warned: what you are about
to learn in this room, indeed learn it you must,
for brawn's not enough to frighten a nun;
      we're fearless, you know.

She sits her black cloaked broad beam butt in
front of the class. Rumors suggest she's
Braulautiger's mom. They behave with a hush.

It's not until later much adulthood impending
even one of them questions why
such a mountainous guy would become gal,
a woman, a nun, a catholic nun. (No, I hardly
believe it myself.) Has something to do
with irreversible fate, the clock-work universe,
and possibly with the quantum physics of self.
Or-- it was just simply the meanest mean thing
he could do; and-- God as my witness -
      that's true.