You, so worldly and intellectual,
Me, pretending to be so,
Envious, like the green chameleon.
Spending hours talking, our bodies
Sinking into the Quad’s cool grass,
Our active minds trying to
Make sense of Camus and Sartre:
“Is there a ‘raison d’etre’ in life?,”
“Wow! Look at his derriere!”
Exciting, we, like crimson tulips
Exposing ourselves to the world.
about long lost friends
of bygone past.
faces, sometimes not.
You, I already know your fate,
about the magnetism
that pulled you in,
never letting you go.
(A second piece on Carolyn Moore Layton by Kathy Sparrow appears here in this year’s edition of the jonestown report.)