Everybody loves juvenilia.

I recently unearthed this poem that I wrote when I was a teenager.

I do not now recall the precise circumstances that inspired it, but now I am sharing it with the Internet. You’re welcome.

WORD TO THE WISE, or Little Tiny Violins — DENIED!

I’m not sure where

I should begin

Except to say

the melodrama’s wearing slightly thin.

My orchestra of Gothic rock

is getting bored,

they want time off.

And there is only so much heaving

A woman’s bosom can withstand.

Now I’m not saying

I’m not guilty

Of wringing hands and clutching brow

But Jesus! there are better ways

to deal — let’s try them now.

Repeat with me

“There’s more to life than angst”

I knew you could!

“My actions will not cause the world to crumble”

That was good!

Of course it isn’t easy — did I ever say it was?

Decision-making sucks but you should make them.

Why? Because —

I’ll break in here to interrupt myself, to make it clear

This poem’s addressed not just to you, but also to me, dear.

And so I say to both of us

In doggerel paraphrase

Act or the world acts on you.

That’s it! Case closed! New phase.