I am that other person
Writing a biography
Of the life which I lived
If you wish to call that
An autobiography
Then that’s fine by me
But don’t go on about it
Because there isn’t time
Not even for those of you
Who were inkwell monitors
Or those of you who remembered
Using inkwells, to make
Blotting paper bombs
For shooting across the classroom
On to the teacher’s blackboard
Whilst the teacher’s face
Was focussed on the chalk spot
As he, or she, wrote out the knowledge
