The Old Gray Poet

My sneaky students
are on their smartphones.

They think I’m blind,
and expect me to teach them

all the secrets that ever were
about poetry.

In my book,
they are gladly mistaken.

I teach them
just enough

to keep my cushy job.
The little bastards will be lucky

if they ever write
but mediocre poems.

In fact, I’ll be very disappointed
if any of them amount to anything at all.