I well remember how I boiled then.
The passion for experience, the thirst
for self-expression: I recall again
the pressure of the future and the first
occasions when I got to make a choice.

The boys were anxious turning into men
and girls for womanhood our acts rehearsed.
We angled for the here and now, and when
we happened onto it, it seemed the worst
examples were the ones we gave a voice.

The future lay enticingly ahead
and should have given comfort with its size,
but desperate passion rode in me instead,
and I had stamina but nothing wise.