young and confused

little courage
and a string of disappointments:
this is what it is like to be
before the age of
22

it is a time for sexual conquest and
exploration

to play the game well
but often
flawed

courage in a glass of red wine
filled to the bottom

I strum heart-strings
wishing for a song to play

I would want to fire
but to do so
has become dull

so instead I wait to become
old (only then will it be
exciting once more)

it has become a game of
waiting
with that bache-colored word again
that manila envelope
that fly on the wall
that dry
pasty word

I would focus on waiting
but would
find myself
nowhere