The Sophomores

We are the sophomores.
We know better.
Both better than you
And somehow better than this.

We are the sophomores.
Insurance rates higher
Thin brakes and bald tires
We argue technicalities
Assume every adult privilege
Shirk every adult responsibility
Indulge every mature pleasure
Abdicate every mature dilemma
Bemoan the slightest inconvenience
Chafe at any suggestion.

We are the sophomores.
Our religion, freedom.
Liberty a birthright claimed
And invoked for the privilege
Of forfeiting cumulative years
Of precious life
On the altar
Of media conglomerates

We are the sophomores.
We demand proof,
Then when it’s given
Wander off bored;
Examining proof
Takes effort.
That wasn’t the deal!

We are the sophomores.
We talk tough
Play with guns
Drink and drive
Back our country —
Like City High —
Right or wrong
Over crosstown rivals.
Dish the dirt
Bully the freshmen
Live on credit
Demand respect

Not bad, of course.
Just sophomores.

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One comment on “The Sophomores

  1. Oh, the dichotomy of the sophomoric soul! No wonder we are such a mess, lol. Love, love, love this piece!

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