Phones Turned On Vibrates Poem by James McLain

I am that tall blond bald boy, in back of you.
Why do you torment me when as you do,
with all of your phat and that?
Being the teacher his pet as you are.
Peeking I do,
through the window at you late at night.
Why do you wink at him and then he turns
and asks for me to stand up.
All around me, you are clear in class.
You and the other pretties you all smile
that all knowing smile.
I can hear them all, this you know.
All of your pink and black phones turned on vibrates.