Third in the series. This poem came about as an exercise in a high-school English class (taught by Craig Mathews), as an exercise in highly compact poetry. (Reference: Death of the Ball Turret Gunner) The timing of the exercise coincided with filling out forms for college entry. I don’t expect everyone to like this poem, since it’s decidedly…opinionated. I maintain my opinion that it’s basically correct, though.
Functionally, the color of a notebook doesn’t matter.
Tan covers, though heavy,
Are aesthetically pleasing.
But when I carry them, I sunburn easily.