Summer of 2007

It was no breakthrough summer

Like the seventies were to the sixties, it seemed to be a nostalgic but violent hangover from the overindulgences of the previous year

I am just thankful that the girl pecked my cheek and not my lips

Because she’d have been an unfaithful and disappointing first kiss

When I presented a flock of poems, she only complimented the one that the other boy co-wrote

If I hadn’t credited him, what would she have said?

And I don’t exactly miss the lengthy songwriting sessions either

Where I saw myself to have the ambitions of Dylan and the ability of Garfunkel

Sorely wishing that I could resort to just covering Jello Biafra

And perhaps present the 21^st century to updated horrors of “California Uber Alles”

With an apathetic team of songwriters on my side, I’d joke that our new religion-themed song should be in the key of “G-sus”

But I couldn’t have hummed such a tune if I tried.