Old angsty poetry

While cleaning my office, I came across this old poem. Seeing as how I owe B two poems in exchange for her letter, I figure I oughtta get going. So, without further ado, here ya go, B:

Like Peanut Butter and Jelly

Love, jazz, and other dangerous adventures

My momma always said, "Boy, follow your bliss." Well, maybe not always. I played with the frat boys on the corner of Wisconsin and Lake, but all they wanted to do was drink until they puked their eyeballs into their penny loafers. I may wish I was a fish, but they acted it out. I tried to convince the learned ones, the lords of academia, that my best course was chosen from the whole universe. I became as the wind, a seeker, a wanderer, going everywhere, staying nowhere. "Different people's abilities," he said, "come into the spotlight at different times." Is this my time on stage, or am I still in the wings? I could hitch-hike across America, across the ocean. I could eat meat. I could challenge and be challenged. I could, my momma always said.

There you have it; a little trip down memory lane, circa 1994. Aloha.