And I knew now, but differently, because it was done.
That poignancy was not this.
Beneath the fragrant maples and beyond the envious desuetude had burned
the gathering assurance.
The response to challenge.
Spondulix, tux, and young girls' tongues, and stingers, too.
Incidents.
Repressions, Mr. Wylie. Inferiority, Phil.
What had kept me so steadfast despite my passions of despair? Despite
all music--despite the Weltschmerz of underprivileged sophomores?