My Problem

by Strawberry-Slayer

Written while I was a section leader in marching band my senior year. It's about a member of my section that drove me nuts.

MY PROBLEM

If I see him again,

I will scream.

Stand still!

Both hands

On your horn!

"But it wasn't me

playing that loud!

Why can't I play

The first part?"

Run till I'm tired,

I want to say.

Instead I tell him

To shut up

And

Stand at attention.

Day after day,

Same thing.

The monotony

Of this sophomore

Makes me want

To gouge my eyes out

With a trombone.