The Secret Life Of Your Elementary Education

The quick brown fox
steers clear
of the lazy dog.

Sick of this, says the fox to the dog
on the way by.
Jumping over you
is so played out.
You’ve been lying there
for many years,
I’ve jumped reliably over you
literally hundreds of thousands
of times, and you never seem to notice
my grace and poise as I do.
Why waste the effort?
All this jumping is murder
on my joints.  I’ve got better
things to do: a goose to steal
and more energetic hounds
to trick.  An actual challenge
to my cunning.  Something
that represents me better.

The dog says, hey,
no skin off my oft-hurdled back.
Whether or not you jump
seems academic.  After all,

who writes in longhand anymore?