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We have crossed the border
    of adolescence, where surly guards
  demand our papers which are never quite
         in order, and shriek threats  
of deportation.

We have entered the operating theater of
          adolescence, where telephone calls stretch on
   like bypass surgery, and each rumor
            is dissected, where wounds,
rubbed raw, reopen on the hour.

We have entered the courtroom of
       adolescence, where cross examination cuts
   right through dinner, and
         closing statements never close,
where parents can only hope that
      the jury will be hung.

We have entered the classroom of
       adolescence, where lectures fall on Sony
ears, and lessons drown in
     MTV, where parents cram            
for passing grades on
     surprise tests of love.

In short, dear friends, we find
        ourselves ensnared
 in the argument of adolescence, searching
     for metaphors, praying for
 patience, hoping for the best, waiting for
             a cure, wanting them back.


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