Sign My Guestbook View My Guestbook
I learned the truth at seventeen
And those of us with ravaged faces
A brown-eyed girl in hand-me-downs
Remember those who win the game
To those of us who know the pain
We all play the game and when we dare
--Janis Ian
That love was meant for beauty queens
--And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired.
The valentines I never knew,
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful--
At seventeen I learned the truth.
Lacking in the social graces,
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Who called to say, "Come dance with me,"
And murmured vague obscenities.
It isn't all it seems,
At seventeen.
Whose name I never could pronounce
Said, "Pity, please, the ones who serve,
They only get what they deserve.
The rich relationed home-town queen
Marries in to what she needs
A guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly."
Lose the love they sought gain
In debentures of quality
And dubious integrity.
Their small town eyes will gape at you
In dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received,
At seventeen.
Of valentines that never came,
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball.
It was long ago and far away,
The world was younger than today,
And dreams were all they gave for free
To ugly duckling girls like me.
To cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone,
Repenting other lives unknown,
That call and say, "Come dance with me,"
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me
At seventeen.
Contact me Sign My Guestbook View My Guestbook
Popular (free) Web Hosts Writing HTML
Autobiography
Story Directory
Links
News and Updates