Sonnet from the Porch of Who Gives a Flying Fuck at a Rolling Donut?

An elementary schoolmarm told me once—
I sha'n't divulge the pedagogue's name now—
That central to evading cries of 'Dunce!'
Was learning, with advanced precision, how
To cull on sight, as garden snake from adder,
The garden simile from metaphor:
The former uses 'like' and 'as'; the latter
Admits of no such craven distance: War
Is hell, and thither with dispatch shall fly
The souls of slothful pupils who omit
To learn the difference. Decades later, I
Can say with confidence that 'pile of shit'
Is neither metaphor nor simile
For that old quack, but just the way things be.