The Last Slam (with Todd's permission)

"I will use my pokeball
to try and catch 'em all"
the kid, I guess, seventeen--
I couldn't see too well from the back row--
recited at the podium.
About two minutes into his reading,
I burst out laughing.
"This kid's hysterical,"
I whispered to Todd, sitting next to me.
"It's so ridiculous, so ironic.
I mean, who presents
rhyming couplets about pokemon
as serious poetry?
It's fucking genius."
People looked back at me,
annoyed, even insulted.
I figured they were stuck up, stuffy.
They just didn't realize:
poetry can be funny.
I nudged Todd,
showing him that it's alright to laugh.
But even he tried to ignore me.
He thinks poetry is all cigarette smoking
and serious tones.
I leaned forward,
ready for the next rhyming punch line,
when I noticed that there was something odd
about the kid's face.
He continued reading,
"Articuno, Charizard and Pikachu
are waiting to go on an adventure with you."
Then I realized that it was his eyes that were off:
they were heavy set
and his forehead sagged down over them.
I whispered to Todd,
"Is something wrong with that guy?
His face is all screwy."
Todd snapped back,
"Yeah, that's because he's retarded."