Wednesday, June 10, 2009


Rating: 3.5

A job worth doing is worth doing well
echoed down from parents like a knell.


When nine, Joe goes to summer camp.
Athletic, agile, quick, he is a champ

at many sports. Though shy, he makes some friends,
a heavy, large-eyed boy no one defends

among them. Other boys decide to call
him “chubs” and “bug-eyes”, and love to watch him fall;

being neither athletic, agile nor quick
he often trips in games. They think he’s thick

because he’s fat (meaning they think he’s dumb) .
He looks to Joe for equilibrium.

But assailing Joe for a poor choice of a friend,
they hector him; Joe yields at the end.

Let’s do a good job on him, the rest all say,
and make a hell for “bug-eyes” on the last day.


The last day of the camp is finally there.
Joe and his friends are waiting in their lair.

They taunt the heavy, large-eyed boy beyond
the bounds; they hear their laughter correspond

to tears falling from large eyes. He turns
to Joe, screams “NO! ”, and runs away. Joe burns

the look, the tears, and scream into his head,
wipes his grin off and wishes he was dead;

he called a friendly boy “bug-eyes” and fat.


And since that day, when Joe remembers that

from time to time, he journeys down to hell.
Some jobs are not worth doing, even well.
Michael Harmon
Lola Cesini 22 January 2010
that is what remorse makes you feel like, well defined, thank you why did you remove your old photographs poem, it was one of my favorites.
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