On Being Fifteen In 1962
We ran the earthly pastures then,
The alleyways, the city park.
Spurning the sunlit paths of men,
We found pure wonder after dark.
On garbage cans we leapt and sang
In shadows of dark tenements.
Our West Side Story voices rang,
Transporting us past worldly sense.
We crossed the park in deepest night,
Stammering out philosophy
Love, pain-derived — hard-won insight,
While cooling currents breathed us free.
The Holy Grail of youth we bore
In innocence toward manhood's door.