That Pouch

The pouch it looked like something
some cajun herbalist from Louisiana might wear
with a look at a map it was far left of that
west coast

See we went to school on the south side
of the Ronald Regan Freeway
the fast lane to a Hamiltonian take
from the poor on the road to the rich
bump bump bump bump Bush Clinton Bush Obama
all kin to the Trump … that’s it

He never stood for the pledge
the pouch colorful and beaded from a string to the chest
no puppetry
heartfelt we could feel the beat
we took our seats to music it was a no stress…
environment set and sitting behind the totem podium
facing us
raven coyote bear deer

with long hair beard vegan and reading
poetry from Blake’s Augeries of Innocence to Wilfred Owen to the Holocaust
thoughts thoughts thoughts

Was it weed around his neck it wasn’t a tie
he never seemed stoned sold or given to standardization
it wasn’t weed but he believed and we wondered
and came to see that was the essence of teaching