The kid with the freckled face
Who lived next door
When I was four
Then left without a trace?
The clown who yelled "Here! Here!"
When Mrs. Kohl
Would call the roll
Then one day wasn't there?
That walking store of knowledge
Who made it clear
In senior year
That he had no use for college?
The one we dubbed "The Beast,"
Who went unshod
And sneered at God
But was called to be a priest?
The grunt with the Southern drawl
Whose purple heart
Had bled a quart
When he shipped back home one Fall?
That jivy junior exec
Who in a crunch
Went out for lunch
And left on a wilderness trek?
The gent on the bench alone
Who every day
Watched children play
But with the birds has flown?
Whose faces I still can see?
I wonder, Do
They wonder too
Whatever became of me?