The Long View

Remember how it was those high school days,
the oos, yeah yeahs, shang-a-lang, doo wap shoo wa?
Virginity and us tried parting ways,
but we had much too little je ne sais quoi.
The whole school thrived on rumours, who’s doing what,
and reputations rose or fell in hours,
it seemed the less some tried the more they got,
we sat enthralled, struck dumb by magic powers.
These Adams and Eves embraced their fallen state,
if their sin was pride, so let it be;
the knowledge they’d obtained was vast, was great,
a mystery unplumbed by you and me.
    But memory plays tricks, sometimes the heart:
    at least if we all had one from the start.