Missing the days
of Messrs C------ and G------,
poetic rivals at Boston Latin School.

John C, the snarky minimalist
and Joshua G, the sharp mind
no drink or drug could stupefy or blur.

These guys' throwaway poems
could shake my confidence
even when I was at the top of my game.

Of course, they edited The Register,
our high-school magazine,
and didn't care for my bombast,

which they published anyway,
having been over-ruled by Mr Roche,
the faculty advisor, doubtless tickled

that someone was writing iambic,
obscure though it was!