Bobby still remembers his High School Sophomore year
Rarely do his other memories still ring so clear
But he also recalls letters to Christine (his girl at the time)
They are so vivid he can quote every line
Sometimes they skipped their classes just to talk for a while,
He adored that girl to madness,
her brilliance and style
That year was precious,that year was a bit wild
He's not living with any regrets,
That year and that girl left impressions he'll never forget
By: J.N.R Dutton
It’s Spring Fling today - an all-day campus concert with some up-and-coming music acts. We’ll be out there, in the rain if we have to, we're determined and somewhat waterproof. We went out earlier, doing a scan for friends to find seats and place stuff to hold our spot.
What, up until now, have been notes of preparation for summer move-out, will become a symphony tomorrow - after my last final - I’ll be a sophomore then, I suppose.
Peter has to check an experiment he’s working on. He hugs me and heads out.
“He’s so hot,” Anna observes, “he makes me think about sex, and you know what - YES!”
“You can have him," I say, "he’s too tall - and besides - he’s friending-down, with me.” I admit.
“I like him,” Lisa says, “he doesn’t complain or disapprove of things.”
“He’s the modern man,” Anna says, dreamily.
“And he’s REALLY good at kissing games.” I confide, grinning like a creepy boy, to make them jealous. They all made various noises that piggybacked and incorporated into one coherent gagging sound.
Sorry, lover,
I think you forgot:
that you said forever,
and I did not.
A whole week
with no word?
Baby I’m the chick
you’ll never deserve.
I see her there,
sitting high in your lap,
with fingers in your hair
like when I did that.
So goodbye, lover,
I hope you’ll remember:
you said forever
and you were the ender.
I am in the sophomore
Years of my life.
A crossroads
Arrived at through
Pain and much strife.
Heartened heart
Songs played on fife
Soft more edged
Your passion as night
You steal your glances
Cross your heart, your knife
These lines are made of languid expression,
With soothing rhythm and enticing seduction
(But I am held steadfast by a Fool's progression,
And I am the Goods of a Fool's production)
I, in my excitement,
was waiting for
That bootstrap.
And with baseball on
Your mind, I tried
to seduce you with
Theater.
Secret dressing
Room call. Me, you
and the Priest.
I saw between
Your legs as the
Makeup faded and I
was never
Happier.
And now, matrimony,
a patriarch and
a stained Buddha
Statue I retreat to
The Garden.
Gawky and awkward,
he had a crooked stance,
he startled at slight noise,
and gave furtive glance,
his legs were bowed,
and bowed further in his stand,
his body was lean,
and looked like a fresh bean,
swollen at places,
and vanishing at others,
his clothes too contoured thus,
they were illfitting and bad,
his students glasses slipped on nose bridge,
as his skin bore an unhealthy grudge,
he was only sixteen,
and alreday carried the full burden,
of getting all of above even,
I wondered at the nature,
that in its next ten years or more,
will make out of this ugly pupa,
a well bred sophomore.
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