Enter Prince of Wales

Doing bong hits between classes,
and sometimes during,
under the bleachers, in Johnny’s van,
behind the dumpsters,
we knew we were disappointments
to our parents who wanted us to be
the kids who got good grades,
talked of college, had obvious ambitions,
and we honestly thought we could be
if we chose to, and even that we would be,
eventually. We would. This dissolution,
this dissipation, was only temporary.
In a couple years, we would throw off
our loose behavior, rise and shine,
put our shoulders to some wheel,
etc.
etc.
etc.
etc.
etc.
O, everyone would be astonished
as we became who we were
destined to become,
but that would be later
after these salad days
when we had a muse of fire
cradled in our hands,
showing us the world
was an insubstantial pageant,
a dumb show whose parts,
we were refusing to play
at least just yet.