We have crossed the border
of adolescence, where surly guards
demand our papers which are never quite
in order, and shriek threats
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
in the argument of adolescence, searching
for metaphors, praying for
patience, hoping for the best, waiting for
a cure, wanting them back.
December 7, 1992